GIFT   OF 


LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY 


BY 


JOHN  BURROUGHS 

AUTHOR  OF  "WAKE  ROBIN,"  "WINTER  SUNSHINE," 

AND  "  BIRDS  AND   POETS/' 


BOSTON 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 


1887 


. 
-I 


Copyright,  1879, 
BT  JOITN   BURROUGHS 

^tf  rights  reserved. 


RIVERSIDE,  CAM  BRIDGE: 

9TBRBOTTPED  AND  PRINTED  Bi 

B.  0.  HOUQHTON  AND  COMPANY. 


PREFACE. 


I  AM  awaro  that  for  the  most  part  the  title  of  my 
book  is  an  allegory  rather  than  an  actual  description ; 
but  readers  who  have  followed  me  heretofore,  I  trust, 
will  not  be  puzzled  or  misled  in  the  present  case  by 
any  want  of  literalness  in  the  matter  of  the  title.  If 
the  name  carries  with  it  a  suggestion  of  the  wild  and 
delectable  in  nature,  of  the  free  and  ungarnered  har- 
vests which  the  wilderness  everywhere  affords  to  the 
observing  eye  and  ear,  it  will  prove  sufficiently  ex- 
plicit for  my  purpose. 

ESOPUS,  N.  Y. 


S 


CONTENTS. 


PAOl 

THE  PASTORAL  BEES .  7 

SHARP  EYES 35 

STRAWBERRIES 63 

Is  IT  GOING  TO  RAIN? 77 

SPECKLED  TROUT    ....  .107 

"-« 

BIRDS  AND  BIRDS 141 

A  BED  or  BOUGHS 167 

BIRDS'-NESTING 197 

THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA    ...  .  til 

X 


THE  PASTORAL 


THE  PASTORAL  BEES. 

THE  honey-bee  goes  forth  from  the  hive  in  spring 
like  the  dove  from  Noah's  ark,  and  it  is  not  till 
after  many  days  that  she  brings  back  the  olive  leaf, 
which  in  this  case  is  a  pellet  of  golden  pollen  upon 
each  hip,  usually  obtained  from  the  alder  or  swamp 
willow.  In  a  country  where  maple  sugar  is  made 
the  bees  get  their  first  tastev)f  sweet  from  the  sap 
as  it  flows  from  the  spiles,  or  as  it  dries  and  is  con- 
densed upon  the  sides  of  the  buckets.  They  will 
sometimes,  in  their  eagerness,  come  about  the  boil- 
ing place  and  be  overwhelmed  by  the  steam  and  the 
smoke.  But  bees  appear  to  be  more  eager  for  bread 
in  the  spring  than  for  honey;  their  supply  of  this 
article,  perhaps,  does  not  keep  as  well  as  their  stores 
of  the  latter  ;  hence  fresh  bread,  in  the  shape  of  new 
pollen,  is  diligently  sought  for.  My  bees  get  their 
first  supplies  from  the  catkins  of  the  willows.  How 
quickly  they  find  them  out.  If  but  one  catkin  opens 
anywhere  within  range  a  bee  is  on  hand  that  very 
hour  to  rifle  it,  and  it  is  a  most  pleasing  experience 
to  stand  near  the  hive  some  mild  April  day  and  see 


10  THE  PASTORAL  BEES. 

them  come  pouring  in  with  their  little  baskets  packed 
with  this  first  fruitage  of  the  spring.  They  will  have 
new  bread  now  ;  they  have  been  to  mill  in  good  ear- 
nest ;  see  their  dusty  coats,  and  the  golden  grist  they 
bring  home  with  them. 

When  a  bee  brings  pollen  into  the  hive  he  ad- 
eances  to  the  cell  in  which  it  is  to  be  deposited  and 
kicks  it  off  as  one  might  his  overalls  or  rubber  boots, 
making  one  foot  help  the  other ;  then  he  walks  off 
without  ever  looking  behind  him ;  another  bee,  one 
of  the  indoor  hands,  comes  along  and  rams  it  down 
with  his  head  and  packs  it  into  the  cell  as  the  dairy- 
maid packs  butter  into  a  firkin. 

The  first  spring  wild-flowers,  whose  shy  faces 
among  the  dry  leaves  and  rocks  are  so  welcome, 
yield  no  honey.  The  anemone,  the  hepatica,  the 
bloodroot,  the  arbutus,  the  numerous  violets,  the 
spring  beauty,  the  corydalis,  etc.,  woo  all  lovers  of 
nature,  but  do  not  woo  the  honey-loving  bee.  It 
requires  more  sun  and  warmth  to  develop  the  sac- 
charine element,  and  the  beauty  of  these  pale  strip- 
lings of  the  woods  and  groves  is  their  sole  and  suffi- 
cient excuse  for  being.  The  arbutus,  lying  low  and 
keeping  green  all  winter,  attains  to  perfume,  but  not 
to  honey. 

The  first  honey  is  perhaps  obtained  from  the  flow- 
trs  of  the  red  maple  and  the  golden  willow.  The 
latter  sends  forth  a  wild,  delicious  perfume.  The 
sugar  maple  blooms  a  little  later,  and  from  its  silken 
tassels  a  rich  nectar  is  gathered  My  bees  will  not 


THE   PASTORAL   BEES.  11 

label  these  different  varieties  for  me  as  I  really  wish 
they  would.  Honey  from  the  maple,  a  tree  so  clean 
and  wholesome,  and  full  of  such  virtues  every  way, 
would  be  something  to  put  one's  tongue  to.  Or  that 
from  the  blossoms  of  the  apple,  the  peach,  the  cherry, 
ihe  quince,  the  currant,  —  one  would  like  a  card  of 
each  of  these  varieties  to  note  their  peculiar  qualities. 
The  apple-blossom  is  very  important  to  the  bees.  A 
single  swarm  has  been  known  to  gain  twenty  pounds 
in  weight  during  its  continuance.  Bees  love  the 
ripened  fruit,  too,  and  in  August  and  September  will 
suck  themselves  tipsy  upon  varieties  like  the  sops-of- 
wine. 

The  interval  between  the  blooming   of   the  fruit- 

o 

trees  and  that  of  the  clover  and  raspberry  is  bridged 
over  in  many  localities  by  the  honey  locust.  What 
a  delightful  summer  murmur  these  trees  send  forth 
at  this  season.  I  know  nothing  about  the  quality 
of  the  honey,  but  it  ought  to  keep  well.  But  when 
the  red  raspberry  blooms,  the  fountains  of  plenty 
are  unsealed  indeed ;  what  a  commotion  about  the 
hives  then,  especially  in  localities  where  it  is  ex- 
tensively cultivated,  as  in  places  along  the  Hudson. 
The  delicate  white  clover,  which  begins  to  bloom 
about  the  same  time,  is  neglected ;  even  honey  it- 
self is  passed  by  for  this  modest,  colorless,  all  but 
odorless  flower.  A  field  of  these  berries  in  June 
sends  forth  a  continuous  murmur  like  that  of  an 
enormous  hive.  The  honey  is  not  so  white  as  that 
obtained  from  clover,  but  it  is  easier  gathered  ;  it  if 


12  THE  PASTORAL   BEES. 

in  shallow  cups  while  that  of  the  clover  is  in  deep 
tubes.  The  bees  are  up  and  at  it  before  sunrise, 
and  it  takes  a  brisk  shower  to  drive  them  in.  But 
the  clover  blooms  later  and  blooms  everywhere,  and 
is  the  staple  source  of  supply  of  the  finest  quality  of 
honey.  The  red  clover  yields  up  its  stores  only  to 
the  longer  proboscis  of  the  bumble-bee,  else  the  bee 
pasturage  of  our  agricultural  districts  would  be  un- 
equaled.  I  do  not  know  from  what  the  famous  honey 
of  Chamouni  in  the  Alps  is  made,  but  it  can  hardly 
surpass  our  best  products.  The  snow-white  honey 
of  Anatolia  in  Asiatic  Turkey,  which  is  regularly 
sent  to  Constantinople  for  the  use  of  the  grand 
seignior  and  the  ladies  of  his  seraglio,  is  obtained 
from  the  cotton  plant,  which  makes  me  think  that  the 
white  clover  does  not  flourish  there.  The  white  clover 
is  indigenous  with  us ;  its  seeds  seem  latent  in  the 
ground,  and  the  application  of  certain  stimulants  to 
the  soil,  like  wood  ashes,  causes  them  to  germinate 
and  spring  up. 

The  rose,  with  all  its  beauty  and  perfume,  yields 
ao  honey  to  the  bee,  unless  the  wild  species  be 
sought  by  the  bumble-bee. 

Among  the  Irumbler  plants  let  me  not  forget  the 
dandelion  that  so  early  dots  the  sunny  slopes,  and 
upon  which  the  bee  languidly  grazes,  wallowing  to 
his  knees  in  the  golden  but  not  over-succulent  past- 
urage. From  the  blooming  rye  and  wheat  the  bee 
gathers  pollen,  also  from  the  obscure  blossoms  of 
Indian  corn.  Among  weeds,  catnip  is  the  great  favor- 


THE   PASTORAL   BEES.  13 

ite.  It  lasts  nearly  the  whole  season  and  yields 
richly.  It  could  no  doubt  be  profitably  cultivated 
in  some  localities,  and  catnip  honey  would  be  a 
novelty  in  the  market.  It  would  probably  partake 
of  the  aromatic  properties  of  the  plant  from  which 
it  was  derived. 

Among  your  stores  of  honey  gathered  before  mid- 
summer you  may  chance  upon  a  card,  or  mayhap 
only  a  square  inch  or  two  of  comb,  in  which  the 
liquid  is  as  transparent  as  water,  of  a  delicious  qual- 
ity, with  a  slight  flavor  of  mint.  This  is  the  product 
of  the  linden  or  basswood,  of  all  the  trees  in  our 
forest  the  one  most  beloved  by  the  bees.  Melissa, 
the  goddess  of  honey,  has  placed  her  seal  upon  this 
tree.  The  wild  swarms  in  the  woods  frequently  reap 
a  choice  harvest  from  it.  I  have  seen  a  mountain-side 
thickly  studded  with  it,  its  straight,  tall,  smooth,  light- 
gray  shaft  carrying  its  deep-green  crown  far  aloft, 
like  the  tulip  or  maple. 

In  some  of  the  Northwestern  States  there  are 
large  forests  of  it,  and  the  amount  of  honey  reported 
stored  by  strong  swarms  in  this  section  during  the 
time  the  tree  is  in  bloom  is  quite  incredible.  As  a 
shade  and  ornamental  tree  the  linden  is  fully  equal 
to  the  maple,  and  if  it  was  as  extensively  planted  and 
cared  for  our  supplies  of  virgin  honey  would  be 
greatly  increased.  The  famous  honey  of  Lithuania 
m  Russia  is  the  product  of  the  linden. 

It  is  a  homely  old  stanza  current  among  bee  folk 
Oiat 


14  THE  PASTORAL   BEES. 

*'  A  swarm  of  bees  in  May 
Is  worth  a  load  of  hay; 
A  swarm  of  bees  in  June 
Is  worth  a  silver  spoon ; 
But  a  swarm  in  July 
Is  not  worth  a  fly." 

A  swarm  in  May  is  indeed  a  treasure ;  it  is,  like  an 
April  baby,  sure  to  thrive,  and  will  very  likely  itself 
send  out  a  swarm  a  month  or  two  later  ;  but  a  swarm 
in  July  is  not  to  be  despised  ;  it  will  store  no  clover 
or  linden  honey  for  the  "  grand  seignior  and  the  ladies 
of  his  seraglio,"  but  plenty  of  the  rank  and  whole- 
some poor  man's  nectar,  the  sun-tanned  product  of 
the  plebeian  buckwheat.  Buckwheat  honey  is  the 
black  sheep  in  this  white  flock,  but  there  is  spirit  and 
character  in  it.  It  lays  hold  of  the  taste  in  no  equivo- 
cal manner,  especially  when  at  a  winter  breakfast  it 
meets  its  fellow,  the  russet  buckwheat  cake.  Bread 
with  honey  to  cover  it  from  the  same  stalk  is  double 
good  fortune.  It  is  not  black,  either,  but  nut-brown, 
and  belongs  to  the  same  class  of  goods  as  Herrick's 

"  Nut-brown  mirth  and  russet  wit." 

How  the  bees  love  it,  and  they  bring  the  delicious 
odor  of  the  blooming  plant  to  the  hive  with  them,  so 
that  in  the  moist  warm  twilight  the  apiary  is  redolent 
with  the  perfume  of  buckwheat. 

Yet  evidently  it  is  not  the  perfume  of  any  flower 
that  attracts  the  bees ;  they  pay  no  attention  to  the 
sweet-scented  lilac,  or  to  heliotrope,  but  work  upon 
sumach,  silkweed,  and  the  hateful  snapdragon.  In 
September  they  are  hard  pressed,  and  do  well  if  they 


THE  PASTORAL  BEES.  15 

pick  up  enough  sweet  to  pay  the  running  expenses 
of  their  establishment.  The  purple  asters  and  the 
golden-rod  are  about  all  that  remain  to  them. 

Bees  will  go  three  or  four  miles  in  quest  of  honey, 
but  it  is  a  great  advantage  to  move  the  hive  near  the 
good  pasturage,  as  has  been  the  custom  from  the 
earliest  times  in  the  Old  World.  Some  enterprising 
person,  taking  a  hint  perhaps  from  the  ancient  Egyp- 
tians, who  had  floating  apiaries  on  the  Nile,  has  tried 
the  experiment  of  floating  several  hundred  colonies 
north  on  the  Mississippi,  starting  from  New  Orleans 
and  following  the  opening  season  up,  thus  realizing  a 
sort  of  perpetual  May  or  June,  the  chief  attraction 
being  the  blossoms  of  the  river  willow,  which  yield 
honey  of  rare  excellence.  Some  of  the  bees  were  no 
doubt  left  behind,  but  the  amount  of  virgin  honey 
secured  must  have  been  very  great.  In  September 
they  should  have  begun  the  return  trip,  following  the 
retreating  summer  South. 

It  is  the  making  of  the  wax  that  costs  with  the 
bee.  /As  with  the  poet,  the  form,  the  receptacle, 
gives  him  more  trouble  than  the  sweet  that  fills  it, 
though,  to  be  sure,  there  is  always  more  or  less  empty 
comb  in  both  cases.  The  honey  he  can  have  for  the 
gathering,  but  the  wax  he  must  make  himseli —  must 
evolve  from  his  own  inner  consciousness.  I  When 
wax  is  to  be  made  the  wax-makers  fill  themselves 
with  honey  and  retire  into  their  chamber  for  private 
meditation  *  it  is  like  some  solemn  religious  rite ; 
they  take  hold  of  hands,  or  hook  themselves  together 


16  THE  PASTORAL   BEES. 

in  long  lines  that  hang  in  festoons  from  the  top  of 
the  hive,  and  wait  for  the  miracle  to  transpire.  After 
about  twenty-four  hours  their  patience  is  rewarded, 
the  honey  is  turned  into  wax,  minute  scales  of  which 
are  secreted  from  between  the  rings  of  the  abdomen 

o 

of  each  bee ;  this  is  taken  off  and  from  it  the  comb 
is  built  up.  It  is  calculated  that  about  twenty- 
five  pounds  of  honey  are  used  in  elaborating  one 
pound  of  comb,  to  say  nothing  of  the  time  that  is 
lost.  Hence  the  importance,  in  an  economical  point 
of  view,  of  a  recent  device  by  which  the  honey  is  ex- 
tracted and  the  comb  returned  intact  to  the  bees. 
But  honey  without  the  comb  is  the  perfume  without 
the  rose,  —  it  is  sweet  merely,  and  soon  degenerates 
into  candy.  Half  the  delectableness  is  in  breaking 
down  these  frail  and  exquisite  walls  yourself,  and 
tasting  the  nectar  before  it  has  lost  its  freshness  by 
contact  with  the  air.  Then  the  comb  is  a  sort  of 
shield  or  foil  that  prevents  the  tongue  from  being 
overwhelmed  by  the  first  shock  of  the  sweet. 

The  drones  have  the  least  enviable  time  of  it. 
Their  foothold  in  the  hive  is  very  precarious.  They 
look  like  the  giants,  the  lords  oi  the  swarm,  but  they 
are  really  the  tools.  Their  loud,  threatening  hum  has 
no  sting  to  back  it  up,  and  their  size  and  noise  make 
them  only  the  more  conspicuous  marks  for  the  birds. 
They  are  all  candidates  for  the  favors  of  the  queen, 
a  fatal  felicity  that  is  vouchsafed  to  but  one.  Fatal, 
I  say,  for  it  is  a  singular  fact  in  the  history  of  bees, 
that  the  fecundation  of  the  queen  costs  the  male  hig 


THE  PASTORAL   BEIS.  17 

life.  Yet  day  after  day  the  drones  go  forth,  thread- 
ing the  mazes  of  the  air  in  hopes  of  meeting  her 
whom  to  meet  is  death.  The  queen  only  leaves  the 
hive  once,  except  when  she  leads  away  the  swarm, 
and  as  she  makes  no  appointment  with  the  male,  but 
wanders  here  and  there,  drones  enough  are  provided 
to  meet  all  the  contingencies  of  the  case. 

One  advantage,  at  least,  results  from  this  system  of 
things  :  there  is  no  incontinence  among  the  males  in 
this  republic ! 

Toward  the  close  of  the  season,  say  in  July  or 
August,  the  fiat  goes  forth  that  the  drones  must  die ; 
there  is  no  further  use  for  them.  Then  the  poor 
creatures,  how  they  are  huddled  and  hustled  about, 
trying  to  hide  in  corners  and  by-ways.  There  is  no 
loud,  defiant  humming  now,  but  abject  fear  seizes 
them.  They  cower  like  hunted  criminals.  I  have 
seen  a  dozen  or  more  of  them  wedge  themselves  into 
a  small  space  between  the  glass  and  the  comb,  where 
the  bees  could  not  get  hold  of  them,  or  where  they 
seemed  to  be  overlooked  in  the  general  slaughter. 
They  will  also  crawl  outside  and  hide  under  the  edges 
of  the  hive.  But  sooner  or  later  they  are  all  killed 
or  kicked  out.  The  drone  makes  no  resistance,  ex- 
cept to  pull  back  and  try  to  get  away ;  but  (putting 
yourself  in  his  place)  with  one  bee  a-hold  of  your  col- 
lar or  the  hair  of  your  head,  and  another  a-hold  of  each 
arm  or  leg,  and  still  another  feeling  for  your  waist- 
bands with  his  sting,  the  odds  are  greatly  against  you. 

It  is  a  singular  fact,  also,  that  the  queen  is  made, 
a 


18  THE   PASTOKAL  BEES. 

Dot  born.  If  the  entire  population  of  Spain  or  Great 
Britain  were  the  offspring  of  one  mother,  it  might  be 
found  necessary  to  hit  upon  some  device  by  which  a 
royal  baby  could  be  manufactured  out  of  an  ordinary 
one,  or  else  give  up  the  fashion  of  royalty.  All  the 
bees  in  the  hive  have  a  common  parentage,  and  the 
queen  and  the  worker  are  the  same  in  the  egg  and  in 
the  chick ;  the  patent  of  royalty  is  in  the  cell  and  in 
the  food ;  the  cell  being  much  larger,  and  the  food  a 
peculiar  stimulating  kind  of  jelly.  In  certain  contin- 
gencies, such  as  the  loss  of  the  queen  with  no  eggs 
in  the  royal  cells,  the  workers  take  the  larva  of  an 
ordinary  bee,  enlarge  the  cell  by  taking  in  the  two 
adjoining  ones,  and  nurse  it  and  stuff  it  and  coddle  it, 
till  at  the  end  of  sixteen  days  it  comes  out  a  queen. 
But  ordinarily,  in  the  natural  course  of  events,  the 
young  queen  is  kept  a  prisoner  in  her  cell  till  the 
old  queen  has  left  with  the  swarm.  Not  only  kept, 
but  guarded  against  the  mother  queen,  who  only 
wants  an  opportunity  to  murder  every  royal  scion  in 
the  hive.  Both  the  queens,  the  one  a  prisoner  and 
the  other  at  large,  pipe  defiance  at  each  other  at  this 
time,  a  shrill,  fine,  trumpet-like  note  that  any  ear  -will 
at  once  recognize.  This  challenge,  not  being  allowed 
to  be  accepted  by  either  party,  is  followed,  in  a  day 
or  two,  by  the  abdication  c>f  the  old  queen ;  she  leads 
out  the  swarm,  and  her  successor  is  liberated  by  her 
keepers,  who,  in  her  time,  abdicates  in  favor  of  the 
next  younger.  When  the  bees  have  decided  that  no 
more  swarms  can  issue,  the  reigning  queen  is  allowed 


THE   PASTORAL   BEES.  19 

to  use  her  stiletto  upon  her  unhatched  sisters.  Cases 
have  been  known  where  two  queens  issued  at  the 
eame  time,  when  a  mortal  combat  ensued,  encouraged 
by  the  workers,  who  formed  a  ring  about  them,  but 
showed  no  preference,  and  recognized  the  victor  as 
the  lawful  sovereign.  For  these  and  many  other  curi- 
ous facts  we  are  indebted  to  the  blind  Huber. 

It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  position  of  the  queen 
cells  is  always  vertical,  while  that  of  the  drones  and 
workers  is  horizontal;  majesty  .stands  on  its  head, 
which  fact  may  be  a  part  of  the  secret. 

The  notion  has  always  very  generally  prevailed 
that  the  queen  of  the  bees  is  an  absolute  ruler,  and 
issues  her  royal  orders  to  willing  subjects.  Hence 
Napoleon  the  First  sprinkled  the  symbolic  bees  over 
the  imperial  mantle  that  bore  the  arms  of  his  dynasty ; 
and  in  the  country  of  the  Pharaohs  the  bee  was  used 
as  the  emblem  of  a  people  sweetly  submissive  to  the 
orders  of  its  king.  But  the  fact  is,  a  swarm  of  bees 
is  an  absolute  democracy,  and  kings  and  despots  can 
find  no  warrant  in  their  example.  The  power  and 
authority  are  entirely  vested  in  the  great  mass,  the 
workers.  They  furnish  all  the  brains  and  foresight 
of  the  colony,  and  administer  its  affairs.  Their  word 
is  law,  and  both  king  and  queen  must  obey.  They 
^egulate  the  swarming,  and  give  the  signal  for  the 
fewarm  to  issue  from  the  hive  ;  they  select  and  make 
ready  the  tree  in  the  woods  and  conduct  the  queen 
to  it. 

The  peculiar  office  and  sacredness  of  the  queen 


20  THE  PASTORAL   BEES. 

consists  in  the  fact  that  she  is  the  mother  of  the 
swarm,  and  the  bees  love  and  cherish  her  as  a  mother 
and  not  as  a  sovereign.  She  is  the  sole  female  bee 
in  the  hive  and  the  swarm  clings  to  her  because  she 
is  their  life.  Deprived  of  their  queen,  and  of  all 
brood  from  which  to  rear  one,  the  swarm  loses  all 
heart  and  soon  dies,  though  there  be  an  abundance 
of  honey  in  the  hive. 

The  common  bees  will  never  use  their  sting  upon 
the  queen;  if  she  is  to  be  disposed  of  they  starve  her 
to  death ;  and  the  queen  herself  will  sting  nothing  but 
royalty  —  nothing  but  a  rival  queen. 

The  queen,  I  say,  is  the  mother  bee ;  it  is  undoubt- 
edly complimenting  her  to  call  her  a  queen  and  in- 
vest her  with  regal  authority,  yet  she  is  a  superb 
creature,  and  looks  every  inch  a  queen.  It  is  an 
event  to  distinguish  her  amid  the  mass  of  bees  when 
the  swarm  alights ;  it  awakens  a  thrill.  Before  you 
have  seen  a  queen  you  wonder  if  this  or  that  bee, 
which  seems  a  little  larger  than  its  fellows,  is  not  she, 
\mt  when  you  once  really  set  eyes  upon  her  you  do 
not  doubt  for  a  moment.  You  know  that  is  the  queen. 
That  long,  elegant,  shining,  feminine-looking  creature 
*an  be  none  less  than  royalty.  How  beautifully  he* 
body  tapers,  how  distinguished  she  looks,  how  delib- 
erate her  movements !  The  bees  do  not  fall  down  be- 
fore her  but  caress  her  and  touch  her  person.  The 
drones,  or  males,  are  large  bees  too,  but  coarse,  blunt, 
broad-shcvldered,  masculine-looking.  There  is  bui 
one  fact  or  incident  in  the  life  of  the  queen  that  look* 


THE  PASTORAL  BEES.  21 

imperial  and  authoritative :  Huber  relates  that  when 
the  old  queen  is  restrained  in  her  movements  by  the 
workers,  ahd  prevented  from  destroying  the  young 
queens  in  their  cells,  she  assumes  a  peculiar  attitude 
and  utters  a  note  that  strikes  every  bee  motionless, 
and  makes  every  head  bow;  while  this  sound  lasts 
not  a  bee  stirs,  but  all  look  abashed  and  humbled,  yet 
whether  the  emotion  is  one  of  fear,  or  reverence,  or 
of  sympathy  with  the  distress  of  the  queen  mother 
is  hard  to  determine.  The  moment  it  ceases  and  she 
advances  again  toward  the  royal  cells  the  bees  bite 
and  pull  and  insult  her  as  before. 

I  always  feel  that  I  have  missed  some  good  fortune 
if  I  am  away  from  home  when  my  bees  swarm. 
What  a  delightful  summer  sound  it  is ;  how  they  come 
pouring  out  of  the  hive,  twenty  or  thirty  thousand 
bees  each  striving  to  get  out  first ;  it  is  as  when  the 
dam  gives  way  and  lets  the  waters  loose,  it  is  a  flood 
of  bees  which  breaks  upward  into  the  air  and  becomes 
to  maze  of  whirling  black  lines  to  the  eye  and  a  soft 
ohorus  of  myriad  musical  sounds  to  the  ear.  This 
way  and  that  way  they  drift,  now  contracting,  now 
expanding,  rising,  sinking,  growing  thick  about  some 
branch  or  bush,  then  dispersing  and  massing  at  some 
other  point,  till  finally  they  begin  to  alight  in  earnest, 
when  in  a  few  moments  the  whole  swarm  is  collected 
upon  the  branch,  forming  a  bunch  perhaps  as  large 
as  a  two-gallon  measure.  Here  they  will  hang  from 
One  to  three  or  four  hours  or  until  a  suitable  tree 
in  the  woods  is  looked  up,  when,  if  they  have  not 


22  THE  PASTORAL  BEES. 

been  offered  a  hive  in  the  mean  time,  they  are  tip 
and  off.  In  hiving  them,  if  any  accident  happens 
to  the  queen  the  enterprise  miscarries  at  once.  One 
day  I  shook  a  swarm  from  a  small  pear-tree  into  a 
tin  pan,  set  the  pan  down  on  a  shawl  spread  beneath 
the  tree,  and  put  the  hive  over  it.  The  bees  presently 
all  crawled  up  into  it,  and  all  seemed  to  go  well  for 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  when  I  observed  that  some- 
thing was  wrong ;  the  bees  began  to  buzz  excitedly 
and  to  rush  about  in  a  bewildered  manner,  then  they 
took  to  the  wing  and  all  returned  to  the  parent  stock. 
On  lifting  up  the  pan,  I  found  beneath  it  the  queen 
with  three  or  four  other  bees.  She  had  been  one  of 
the  first  to  fall,  had  missed  the  pan  in  her  descent,  and 
I  had  set  it  upon  her.  I  conveyed  her  tenderly  back 
to  the  hive,  but  either  the  accident  terminated  fatally 
with  her  or  else  the  young  queen  had  been  liberated 
in  the  interim,  and  one  of  them  had  fallen  in  combat, 
for  it  was  ten  days  before  the  swarm  issued  a  second 
time. 

No  one,  to  my  knowledge,  has  ever  seen  the  bees 
house-hunting  in  the  woods.     Yet  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  they  look  up  new  quarters  either  before 
or  on  the  day  the  swarm  issues.     For  all  bees  are 
wild  bees  and  incapable  of  domestication ;  that  is,  the 
instinct  to  go  back  to  nature  and  take  up  again  their 
wild  abodes  in  the  trees  is  never  eradicated.     Years 
upon  years  of  life  in  the  apiary  seems  to  have  no  ap 
preciable  effect  towards  their  final,  permanent  domes 
tication.     That  every  new  swarm  contemplates  mi 


THE   PASTORAL   BEES.  23 

grating  to  the  woods,  seems  confirmed  by  the  fact 
that  they  will  only  come  out  when  the  weather  is 
favorable  to  such  an  enterprise,  and  that  a  passing 
cloud,  or  a  sudden  wind,  after  the  bees  are  in  the  air, 
will  usually  drive  them  back  into  the  parent  hive. 
Or  an  attack  upon  them  with  sand  or  gravel,  or  loose 
earth  or  water,  will  quickly  cause  them  to  change 
their  plans.  I  would  not  even  say  but  that,  when  the 
bees  are  going  off,  the  apparently  absurd  practice,  now 
entirely  discredited  by  regular  bee-keepers  but  still 
resorted  to  by  unscientific  folk,  of  beating  upon  tin 
pans,  blowing  horns,  and  creating  an  uproar  generally, 
might  not  be  without  good  results.  Certainly  not  by 
drowning  the  "  orders "  of  the  queen,  but  by  im- ' 
pressing  the  bees  as  with  some  unusual  commotion  in 
nature.  Bees  are  easily  alarmed  and  disconcerted, 
and  I  have  known  runaway  swarms  to  be  brought 
down  by  a  farmer  plowing  in  the  field  who  showered 
them  with  handfuls  of  loose  soil. 

I  love  to  see  a  swarm  go  off —  if  it  is  not  mine, 
and  if  mine  must  go  I  want  to  be  on  hand  to  see  the 
fun.  It  is  a  return  to  first  principles  again  by  a  very 
direct  route.  The  past  season  I  witnessed  two  such 
escapes.  One  swarm  had  come  out  the  day  before, 
ind,  without  alighting,  had  returned  to  the  parent 
uive  —  some  hitch  in  the  plan,  perhaps,  or  may  be 
the  queen  had  found  her  wings  too  weak.  The  next 
day  they  came  out  again,  and  were  hived.  But 
something  offended  them,  a*  else  the  tree  in  the 
Woods  —  perhaps  some  roya-  old  maple  or  birch, 


24  THE   PASTORAL   BEES. 

holding  .!s  head  high  above  all  others,  with  snug, 
spacious,  irregular  chambers  and  galleries  —  had  too 
many  attractions ;  for  they  were  presently  discovered 
filling  the  air  over  the  garden,  and  whirling  excitedly 
around.  Gradually  they  began  to  drift  over  the 
street ;  a  moment  more,  and  they  had  become  sepa- 
rated from  the  other  bees,  and,  drawing  together  in  a 
more  compact  mass  or  cloud,  away  they  went,  a  hum- 
ming; flying  vortex  of  bees,  the  queen  in  the  centre, 
and  the  swarm  revolving  around  her  as  a  pivot,  — 
over  meadows,  across  creeks  and  swamps,  straight 
for  the  heart  of  the  mountain,  about  a  mile  distant, 
—  slow  at  first,  so  that  the  youth  who  gave  chase 
kept  up  with  them,  but  increasing  their  speed  till 
only  a  fox-hound  could  have  kept  them  in  sight.  I 
saw  their  pursuer  laboring  up  the  side  of  the  mount- 
ain ;  saw  his  white  shirt-sleeves  gleam  as  he  entered 
the  woods  ;  but  he  returned  a  few  hours  afterward 
without  any  clew  as  to  the  particular  tree  in  which 
they  had  taken  refuge  out  of  the  ten  thousand  that 
covered  the  side  of  the  mountain. 

The  other  swarm  came  out  about  one  o'clock  of  a 
hot  July  day,  and  at  once  showed  symptoms  that 
alarmed  the  keeper,  who,  however,  threw  neither 
dirt  nor  water.  The  house  was  situated  on  a  steep 
side-hill.  Behind  it  the  ground  rose,  for  a  hundred 
rods  or  so,  at  an  angle  of  nearly  forty-five  degrees, 
and  the  prospect  of  having  to  chase  them  up  this  hill, 
if  chase  them  we  should,  promised  a  good  trial  of 
wind  at  least ;  for  it  soon  became  evident  that  theii 


THE  PASTOKAL   BEES.  25 

course  lay  in  this  direction.  Determined  to  have  a 
hand,  or  rather  a  foot,  in  the  chase,  I  threw  off  my 
coat  and  htfrried  on,  before  the  swarm  was  yet  fairly 
organized  and  under  way.  The  route  soon  led  me 
into  a  field  of  standing  rye,  every  spear  of  which 
held  its  head  above  my  own.  Plunging  recklessly 
forward,  my  course  marked  to  those  watching  from 
below  by  the  agitated  and  wriggling  grain,  I  emerged 
from  the  miniature  forest  just  in  time  to  see  the  run- 
aways disappearing  over  the  top  of  the  hill,  some 
fifty  rods  in  advance  of  me.  Lining  them  as  well 
as  I  could,  I  soon  reached  the  hill-top,  my  breath  ut- 
terly gone  and  the  perspiration  streaming  from  every 
pore  of  my  skin.  On  the  other  side  the  country 
opened  deep  and  wide.  A  large  valley  swept  around 
to  the  north,  heavily  wooded  at  its  head  and  on  its 
sides.  It  became  evident  at  once  that  the  bees  had 
made  good  their  escape,  and  that  whether  they  hacl 
stopped  on  one  side  of  the  valley  or  the  other,  or 
had  indeed  cleared  the  opposite  mountain  and  gone 
into  some  unknown  forest  beyond,  was  entirely  prob- 
lematical. I  turned  back,  therefore,  thinking  of  the 
honey-laden  tree  that  some  of  these  forests  would 
hold  before  the  falling  of  the  leaf. 

I  heard  of  a  youth  in  the  neighborhood,  more 
ucky  than  myself  on  a  like  occasion.  It  seems  that 
he  had  got  well  in  advance  of  the  swarm,  whose 
route  lay  over  a  hill,  as  in  my  case,  and  as  he  neared 
the  summit,  hat  in  hand,  the  bees  had  just  come  up 
and  were  all  about  him.  Presently  he  noticed  them 


26  THE  PASTOEAL   BEES. 

hovering  about  his  straw  hat,  and  alighting  on  his 
arm ;  and  in  almost  as  brief  a  time  as  it  takes  to  re- 
late it,  the  whole  swarm  had  followed  the  queen  into 
his  hat.  Being  near  a  stone  wall,  he  coolly  depos- 
ited his  prize  upon  it,  quickly  disengaged  himself 
from  the  accommodating  bees,  and  returned  for  a 
hive.  The  explanation  of  this  singular  circumstance 
no  doubt  is,  that  the  queen,  unused  to  such  long  and 
heavy  nights,  was  obliged  to  alight  from  very  ex- 
haustion. It  is  not  very  unusual  for  swarms  to  be 
thus  found  in  remote  fields,  collected  upon  a  bush  or 
branch  of  a  tree. 

When  a  swarm  migrates  to  the  woods  in  this  man- 
ner, the  individual  bees,  as  I  have  intimated,  do  not 
move  in  right  lines  or  straight  forward,  like  a  flock 
of  birds,  but  round  and  round,  like  chaff  in  a  whirl- 
wind. Unitedly  they  form  a  humming,  revolving, 
nebulous  mass,  ten  or  fifteen  feet  across,  which  keeps 
just  high  enough  to  clear  all  obstacles,  except  in 
crossing  deep  valleys,  when,  of  course,  it  may  be 
very  high.  The  swarm  seems  to  be  guided  by  a  line 
of  couriers,  which  may  be  seen  (at  least  at  the  out- 
set) constantly  going  and  coming.  As  they  take  a 
direct  course  there  is  always  some  chance  of  follow- 
ing them  to  the  tree,  unless  they  go  a  long  distance, 
and  some  obstruction,  like  a  wood,  or  a  swamp,  or 
a  high  hill,  intervenes  —  enough  chance,  at  any  rate, 
to  stimulate  the  lookers-on  to  give  vigorous  chase 
as  long  as  their  wind  holds  out.  If  the  bees  are 
successfully  followed  to  their  retreat,  two  plans  ar« 


THE  PASTORAL   BEES.  27 


feasible :  either  to  fell  the  tree  at  once,  and  seek  to 
hive  them,  perhaps  bring  them  home  in  the  section  of 
the  tree  thai  contains  the  cavity ;  or  to  leave  the  tree 
till  fall,  then  invite  your  neighbors,  and  go  and  cut 
it,  and  see  the  ground  flow  with  honey.  The  former 
course  is  more  business-like  ;  but  the  latter  is  the 
one  usually  recommended  by  one's  friends  and  neigh- 
bors. 

Perhaps  nearly  one  third  of  all  the  runaway  swarms 
leave  when  no  one  is  about,  and  hence  are  unseen  and 
unheard,  save,  perchance,  by  some  distant  laborers 
in  the  field,  or  by  some  youth  plowing  on  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  who  hears  an  unusual  humming  noise, 
and  sees  the  swarm  dimly  whirling  by  overhead,  and, 
may  be,  gives  chase ;  or  he  may  simply  catch  the 
sound,  when  he  pauses,  looks  quickly  around,  but  sees 
nothing.  When  he  comes  in  at  night  he  tells  how 
he  heard  or  saw  a  swarm  of  bees  go  over ;  and,  per- 
haps, from  beneath  one  of  the  hives  in  the  garden  a 
black  mass  of  bees  has  disappeared  during  the  day. 

They  are  not  partial  as  to  the  kind  of  tree,  —  pine, 
hemlock,  elm,  birch,  maple,  hickory,  —  any  tree  with  a 
good  cavity  high  up  or  low  down.  A  swarm  of  mine 
ran  away  from  the  new  patent  hive  I  gave  them,  and 
took  up  their  quarters  in  the  hollow  trunk  of  an  old 
apple-trqe  across  an  adjoining  field.  The  entrance 
was  a  mouse-hole  near  the  ground. 

Another  swarm  in  the  neigh oorhood  deserted  their 
keeper  and  went  into  the  cornice  of  an  out-house  that 
amid  evergreens  in  the  rear  of  a  large  mansion. 


28  THE   PASTORAL  BEES. 

But  there  is  no  accounting  for  the  taste  of  bees,  as 
Samson  found  when  he  discovered  the  swarm  in  the 
carcass,  or  more  probably  the  skeleton,  of  the  lion  he 
had  slain. 

In  any  given  locality,  especially  in  the  more 
wooded  and  mountainous  districts,  the  number  of 
swarms  that  thus  assert  their  independence  forms 
quite  a  large  per  cent.  In  the  Northern  States  these 
swarms  very  often  perish  before  spring  ;  but  in  such 
a  country  as  Florida  they  seem  to  multiply,  till  bee- 
trees  are  very  common.  In  the  West,  also,  wild 
honey  is  often  gathered  in  large  quantities.  I  no- 
ticed, not  long  since,  that  some  wood-choppers  on 
the  west  slope  of  the  Coast  Range  felled  a  tree  that 
had  several  pailfuls  in  it. 

One  night  on  the  Potomac  a  party  of  us  unwit- 
tingly made  our  camp  near  the  foot  of  a  bee-tree, 
which  next  day  the  winds  of  heaven  blew  down,  for 
our  special  delectation,  at  least  so  we  read  the  sign. 
Another  time  while  sitting  by  a  waterfall  in  the  leaf- 
less April  woods  I  discovered  a  swarm  in  the  top  of 
a  large  hickory.  I  had  the  season  before  remarked 
the  tree  as  a  likely  place  for  bees,  but  the  screen  of 
eaves  concealed  them  from  me.  This  time  my  for- 
mer presentiment  occurred  to  me,  and,  looking  sharply, 
sure  enough  there  were  the  bees,  going  out  and  in  a 
large,  irregular  opening.  In  June  a  violent  tempest 
of  wind  and  rain  demolished  the  tree,  and  the  honey 
was  all  lost  m  the  creek  into  which  it  fell.  I  hap- 
pened  along  that  way  two  or  three  days  after  th« 


THE  PASTORAL   BEES.  29 

tornado,  when  I  saw  a  remnant  of  the  swarm,  those, 
doubtless,  that  escaped  the  flood  and  those  that  were 
away  when  rthe  disaster  came,  hanging  in  a  small 
black  mass  to  a  branch  high  up  near  where  their 
home  used  to  be.  They  looked  forlorn  enough.  If 
the  queen  was  saved  the  remnant  probably  sought 
another  tree ;  otherwise  the  bees  have  soon  died. 

I  have  seen  bees  desert  their  hive  in  the  spring 
when  it  was  infested  with  worms  or  when  the  honey 
was  exhausted ;  at  such  times  the  swarm  seems  to 
wander  aimlessly,  alighting  here  and  there,  and  per- 
haps in  the  end  uniting  with  some  other  colony.  In 
case  of  such  union,  it  would  be  curious  to  know  if 
negotiations  were  first  opened  between  the  parties, 
and  if  the  houseless  bees  are  admitted  at  once  to  all 
the  rights  and  franchises  of  their  benefactors..  It 
would  be  very  like  the  bees  to  have  some  preliminary 
plan  and  understanding  about  the  matter  on  both 
sides. 

Bees  will  accommodate  themselves  to  almost  any 
quarters,  yet  no  hive  seems  to  please  them  so  well  as 
a  section  of  a  hollow  tree  —  "  gums "  as  they  are 
called  in  the  South  and  West  where  the  sweet  gum 
grows.  In  some  European  countries  the  hive  is  al- 
ways made  from  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  a  suitable  cavity 
being  formed  by  boring.  The  old-fashioned  straw 
hive  is  picturesque,  and  a  great  favorite  with  the  bees 
vlso. 

The  life  of  a  swarm  of  bees  is  like  an  active  and 
tazardous  campaign  of  a&  army ;  the  ranks  arc  being 


30  THE   PASTORAL   BEES. 

continually  depleted,  and  continually  recruited.  What 
adventures  they  have  by  flood  and  field,  and  what 
hair-breadth  escapes !  A  strong  swarm  during  the 
honey  season  loses,  on  an  average,  about  four  or  five 
thousand  per  month,  or  one  hundred  and  fifty  per 
day.  They  are  overwhelmed  by  wind  and  rain, 
caught  by  spiders,  benumbed  by  cold,  crushed  by 
cattle,  drowned  in  rivers  and  ponds,  and  in  many 
nameless  ways  cut  off  or  disabled.  In  the  spring 
the  principal  mortality  is  from  the  cold.  As  the  sun 
declines  they  get  chilled  before  they  can  reach  home. 
Many  fall  down  outside  the  hive,  unable  to  get  in 
with  their  burden.  One  may  see  them  come  utterly 
spent  and  drop  hopelessly  into  the  grass  in  front  of 
their  very  doors.  Before  they  can  rest  the  cold  has 
stiffened  them.  I  go  out  in  April  and  May  and  pick 
them  up  by  the  handfuls,  their  baskets  loaded  with 
pollen,  and  warm  them  in  the  sun  or  in  the  house,  or 
by  the  simple  warmth  of  my  hand,  until  they  can 
crawl  into  the  hive.  Heat  is  their  life,  and  an  appar- 
ently lifeless  bee  may  be  revived  by  warming  him. 
I  have  also  picked  them  up  while  rowing  on  the 
-iver  and  seen  them  safely  to  shore.  It  is  amusing 
to  see  them  come  hurrying  home  when  there  is  a 
thunder-storm  approaching.  They  come  piling  in 
till  the  rain  is  upon  them.  Those  that  are  overtaken 
Dy  the  storm  doubtless  weather  it  as  best  they  can 
in  the  sheltering  trees  or  grass.  It  is  not  probable 
that  a  bee  ever  gets  lost  by  wandering  into  strange 
ind  unknown  parts.  With  their  myriad  eyes  they  see 


THE  PASTORAL   BEES.  31 

everything ;  and  then,  their  sense  of  locality  is  very 
acute,  is,  indeed,  one  of  their  ruling  traits.  When  a 
bee  marks  the  place  of  his  hive,  or  of  a  bit  of  good 
pasturage  in  the  fields  or  swamps,  or  of  the  bee- 
hunter's  box  of  honey  on  the  hills  or  in  the  woods, 
he  returns  to  it  as  unerringly  as  fate. 

Honey  was  a  much  more  important  article  of  food 
with  the  ancients  than  it  is  with  us.  As  they  appear 
to  have  been  unacquainted  with  sugar,  honey,  no  doubt, 
stood  them  instead.  It  is  too  rank  and  pungent  for 
the  modern  taste ;  it  soon  cloys  upon  the  palate.  It 
demands  the  appetite  of  youth,  and  the  strong,  robust 
digestion  of  people  who  live  much  in  the  open  air. 
It  is  a  more  wholesome  food  than  sugar,  and  modern 
confectionery  is  poison  beside  it.  Beside  grape  sugar, 
honey  contains  manna,  mucilage,  pollen,  acid,  and 
other  vegetable  odoriferous  substances  and  juices.  It 
is  a  sugar  with  a  kind  of  wild  natural  bread  added. 
The  manna  of  itself  is  both  food  and  medicine,  and 
the  pungent  vegetable  extracts  have  rare  virtues. 
Honey  promotes  the  excretions  and  dissolves  the 
glutinous  and  starchy  impedimenta  of  the  system. 

Hence  it  is  not  without  reason  that  with  the 
ancients  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey  should 
mean  a  land  abounding  in  all  good  things ;  and 
the  queen  in  the  nursery  rhyme,  who  lingered  in  the 
kitchen  to  eat  "  bread  and  honey  "  while  the  "  king 
was  in  the  parlor  counting  out  his  money,"  was  doing 
ft  very  sensible  thing.  Epaminondas  is  said  to  have 
rarely  eaten  anything  but  bread  and  honey.  The 


32  THE   PASTORAL   BEES. 

Emperor  Augustus  one  day  inquired  of  a  centena- 
rian how  he  had  kept  his  vigor  of  mind  and  body  so 
long ;  to  which  the  veteran  replied  that  it  was  by 
(i  oil  without  and  honey  within."  Cicero,  in  his  "  Old 
Age,"  classes  honey  with  meat  and  milk  and  cheese 
as  among  the  staple  articles  with  which  a  well-kept 
farm-house  will  be  supplied. 

Italy  and  Greece,  in  fact  all  the  Mediterranean 
countries,  appear  to  have  been  famous  lands  for 
honey.  Mount  Hymettus,  Mount  Hybla,  and  Mount 
Ida  produced  what  may  be  called  the  classic  honey  of 
antiquity,  an  article  doubtless  in  no  wise  superior  to 
our  best  products.  Leigh  Hunt's  "  Jar  of  Honey  "  is 
mainly  distilled  from  Sicilian  history  and  literature, 
Theocritus  furnishing  the  best  yield.  Sicily  has  always 
been  rich  in  bees.  Swinburne  (the  traveler  of  a  hun- 
dred years  ago)  says  the  woods  on  this  island  abounded 
in  wild  honey,  and  that  the  people  also  had  many  hives 
near  their  houses.  The  idyls  of  Theocritus  are  native 
to  the  island  in  this  respect,  and  abound  in  bees  — - 
"  flat-nosed  bees  "  as  he  calls  them  in  the  Seventh 
Idyl —  and  comparisons  in  which  comb-honey  is  the 
Standard  of  the  most  delectable  of  this  world's  goods. 
Bis  goatherds  can  think  of  no  greater  bliss  than  that 
he  mouth  be  filled  with  honey-combs,  or  to  be  in- 
Josed  in  a  chest  like  Daphnis  and  fed  on  the  combs 
i  bees ;  and  among  the  delectables  with  which  Ar- 
moe  cherishes  Adonis  are  "  honey-cakes,"  and  other 
tid-bits  made  of  "  sweet  honey."  In  the  country  of 
Theocritus  this  custom  is  said  still  to  prevail :  when 


THE  PASTORAL  BEES. 


a  couple  are  married  the  attendants  place  honey  in 
their  mouths,  by  which  they  would  symbolize  the 
hope  that  their  love  may  be  as  sweet  to  their  souls 
as  honey  to  the  palate. 

It  was  fabled  that  Homer  was  suckled  by  a  priest- 
ess whose  breasts  distilled  honey  ;  and  that  once  when 
Pindar  lay  asleep  the  bees  dropped  honey  upon  his 
lips.  In  the  Old  Testament  the  food  of  the  promised 
Immanuel  was  to  be  butter  and  honey  (there  is  much 
doubt  about  the  butter  in  the  original),  that  he  might 
know  good  from  evil ;  and  Jonathan's  eyes  were  en- 
lightened by  partaking  of  some  wood  or  wild  honey : 
"See,  I  pray  you,  how  mine  eyes  have  been  en- 
lightened, because  I  tasted  a  little  of  this  honey." 
So  far  as  this  part  of  his  diet  was  concerned,  therefore, 
John  the  Baptist,  during  his  sojourn  in  the  wilderness, 
his  divinity  school-days  in  the  mountains  and  plains 
of  Judea,  fared  extremely  well.  Abo.ut  the  other 
part,  the  locusts,  or,  not  to  put  too  fine  a  point  on  it, 
the  grasshoppers,  as  much  cannot  be  said,  though 
they  were  among  the  creeping  and  leaping  things  the 
children  of  Israel  were  permitted  to  eat.  They  were 
probably  not  eaten  raw  but  roasted  in  that  most 
primitive  of  ovens,  a  hole  in  the  ground  made  hot  by 
building  a  fire  in  it.  The  locusts  and  honey  may  have 
been  served  together,  as  the  Bedas  of  Ceylon  are  said 
to  season  their  meat  with  honey.  At  any  rate,  as  the 
locust  is  often  a  great  plague  in  Palestine,  the  prophet  / 
in  eating  them  found  his  account  in  the  general  weal, 
and  in  the  profit  of  the  pastoral  bees  ;  the  fewer  lo- 


34  THE  PASTORAL  BEES. 

ousts,  the  more  flowers.  Owing  to  its  numerous  wild 
flowers  and  flowering  shrubs,  Palestine  has  always 
been  a  famous  country  for  bees.  They  deposit  their 
honey  in  hollow  trees  as  our  bees  do  when  they  es- 
cape from  the  hive,  and  in  holes  in  the  rocks  as  ours 
do  not.  In  a  tropical  or  semi-tropical  climate  bees 
are  quite  apt  to  take  refuge  in  the  rocks,  but  where 
ice  and  snow  prevail,  as  with  us,  they  are  much  safer 
high  up  in  the  trunk  of  a  forest  tree. 

The  best  honey  is  the  product  of  the  milder  parts 
of  the  temperate  zone.  There  are  too  many  rank 
and  poisonous  plants  in  the  tropics.  Honey  from  cer- 
tain districts  of  Turkey  produces  headache  and  vomit- 
ing and  that  from  Brazil  is  used  chiefly  as  medicine. 
•The  honey  of  Mount  Hymettus  owes  its  fine  quality 
to  wild  thyme.  The  best  honey  in  Persia  and  in 
Florida  is  collected  from  the  orange  blossom.  The 
celebrated  honey  of  Narbonne  in  the  south  of  France 
,\s  obtained  from  a  species  of  rosemary.  In  Scotland 
good  honey  is  made  from  the  blossoming  heather. 

California  honey  is  white  and  delicate  and  highly 
perfumed,  and  now  takes  the  lead  in  the  market. 
But  honey  is  honey  the  world  over ;  and  the  bee  is 
the  bee  still.  "  Men  may  degenerate,"  says  an  old 
traveler.  "  may  forget  the  arts  by  which  they  acquired 
renown  ;  manufacturies  may  fail,  and  commodities  be 
debased,  but  the  sweets  of  the  wild-flowers  of  the 
wilderness,  the  industry  and  natural  mechanics  of  the 
bee,  will  continue  without  change  or  derogation." 


SHARP 


SHAEP  EYES. 

NOTING  how  one  eye  seconds  and  reinforces  the 
other,  I  have  often  amused  myself  by  wondering 
what  the  effect  would  be  if  one  could  go  on  opening 
eye  after  eye  to  the  number  say  of  a  dozen  or  more. 
What  would  he  see  ?  Perhaps  not  the  invisible  — 
not  the  odors  of  flowers  or  the  fever  germs  in  the  air 
—  not  the  infinitely  small  of  the  microscope  or  the  in- 
finitely distant  of  the  telescope.  This  would  require, 
not  more  eyes  so  much  as  an  eye  constructed  with 
more  and  different  lenses ;  but  would  he  not  see  with 
augmented  power  within  the  natural  limits  of  vision  ? 
At  any  rate,  some  persons  seem  to  have  opened  more 
eyes  than  others,  they  see  with  such  force  and  ^distinct- 
ness ;  their  vision  penetrates  the  tangle  and  obscurity 
where  that  of  others  fails  like  a  spent  or  impotent 
bullet.  How  many  eyes  did  Gilbert  White  open? 
how  many  did  Henry  Thoreau  ?  how  many  did  Au- 
dubon?  how  many  does  the  hunter,  matching  his 
sight  against  the  keen  and  alert  sense  of  a  deer  or 
a  moose,  or  a  fox  or  a  wolf  ?  Not  outward  eyes,  but 
inward.  We  open  another  eye  whenever  we  see  be* 


88  SHAEP   EYES. 

yond  the  first  general  features  or  outlines  of  things 
—  whenever  we  grasp  the  special  details  and  charac- 
teristic markings  that  this  mask  covers.  Science 
confers  new  powers  of  vision.  Whenever  you  have 
learned  to  discriminate  the  birds,  or  the  plants,  or 
the  geological  features  of  a  country,  it  is  as  if  new 
and  keener  eyes  were  added. 

Of  course  one  must  not  only  see  sharply,  but  read 
aright  what  he  sees.  The  facts  in  the  life  of  Nature 
that  are  transpiring  about  us  are  like  written  words 
that  the  observer  is  to  arrange  into  sentences.  Or 
the  writing  is  in  cipher  and  he  must  furnish  the  key. 
A  female  oriole  was  one  day  observed  very  much  pre- 
occupied under  a  shed  where  the  refuse  from  the  horse 
stable  was  thrown.  She  hopped  about  among  the  barn 
fowls,  scolding  them  sharply  when  they  came  too 
near  her.  The  stable,  dark  and  cavernous,  was  just 
beyond.  The  bird,  not  finding  what  she  wanted  out- 
side, boldly  ventured  into  the  stable,  and  was  pres- 
ently captured  by  the  farmer.  What  did  she  want? 
was  the  query.  What,  but  a  horsehair  for  her  nest 
which  was  in  an  apple-tree  near  by ;  and  she  was  so 
bent  on  having  one  that  I  have  no  doubt  she  would 
have  tweaked  one  out  of  the  horse's  tail  had  he  been 
in  the  stable.  Later  in  the  season  I  examined  her 
nest  and  found  it  sewed  through  and  through  with 
Eeveral  long  horsehairs,  so  that  the  bird  persisted  in 
Uer  search  till  the  hair  was  found. 

Little  dramas  and  tragedies  and  comedies,  little 
characteristic  scenes,  are  always  being  enacted  in  the 


SHARP   EYES.  39 

lives  of  the  birds,  if  our  eyes  are  sharp  enough  to 
see  them.  Spine  clever  observei  saw  this  little  com- 
edy played  among  some  English  sparrows  and  wrote 
an  account  of  it  in  his  newspaper ;  it  is  too  good 
not  to  be  true  :  A  male  bird  brought  to  his  box  a 
large,  fine  goose  feather,  which  is  a  great  find  for  a 
sparrow  and  much  coveted.  After  he  had  deposited 
his  prize  and  chattered .  his  gratulations  over  it  he 
went  away  in  quest  of  his  mate.  His  next-door 
neighbor,  a  female  bird,  seeing  her  chance,  quickly 
slipped  in  and  seized  the  feather,  —  and  here  the  wit 
of  the  bird  came  out,  for  instead  of  carrying  it  into  her 
own  box  she  ilew  with  it  to  a  near  tree  and  hid  it  in 
a  fork  of  the  branches,  then  went  home,  and  when 
her  neighbor  returned  with  his  mate  was  innocently 
employed  about  her  own  affairs.  The  proud  male, 
finding  his  feather  gone,  came  out  of  his  box  in  a 
high  state  of  excitement,  and,  with  wrath  in  his  man- 
ner and  accusation  on  his  tongue,  rushed  into  the 
cot  of  the  female.  Not  finding  his  goods  and  chattels 
there  as  he  had  expected,  he  stormed  around  a  while, 
abusing  everybody  in  general  and  his  neighbor  in 
particular,  and  then  went  away  as  if  to  repair  the 
loss.  As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight,  the  shrewd 
thief  went  and  brought  the  feather  home  and  lined 
her  own  domicile  with  it. 

I  was  much  amused  one  summer  day  in  seeing  a 
bluebird  feeding  her  young  one  in  the  shaded  street  of 
a  large  town.  She  had  captured  a  cicada  or  harvest-fly 
%nd  after  bruising  it  a  while  on  the  ground  flew  with  it 


40  SHARP   EYES. 

to  a  tree  and  placed  it  in  the  beak  of  the  young  bird. 
It  was  a  large  morsel,  and  the  mother  seemed  to  have 
doubts  of  her  chick's  ability  to  dispose  of  it,  for  she 
stood  near  and  watched  its  efforts  with  great  solici- 
tude. The  young  bird  struggled  valiantly  with  the 
cicada,  but  made  no  headway  in  swallowing  it,  when 
the  mother  took  it  from  him  and  flew  to  the  sidewalk, 
and  proceeded  to  break  and  bruise  it  more  thoroughly. 
Then  she  again  placed  it  in  his  beak,  and  seemed  to 
say,  "  There,  try  it  now,"  and  sympathized  so  thor- 
oughly with  his  efforts  that  she  repeated  many  of 
his  motions  and  contortions.  But  the  great  fly  was 
unyielding,  and,  indeed,  seemed  ridiculously  dispropor- 
tioned  to  the  beak  that  held  it.  The  young  bird  flut- 
tered and  fluttered,  and  screamed,  "  I  'm  stuck,  I  'm 
stuck,"  till  the  anxious  parent  again  seized  the  morsel 
and  carried  it  to  an  iron  railing,  where  she  came  down 
upon  it  for  the  space  of  a  minute  with  all  the  force 
and  momentum  her  beak  could  command.  Then  she 
offered  it  to  her  young  a  third  time,  but  with  the 
same  result  as  before,  except  that  this  time  the  bird 
dropped  it ;  but  she  was  to  the  ground  as  soon  as  the 
cicada  was,  and  taking  it  in  her  beak  flew  some  dis- 
tance to  a  high  board  fence  where  she  sat  motionless 
for  some  moments.  While  pondering  the  problem 
how  that  fly  should  be  broken,  the  male  bluebird  ap- 
proached her,  and  said  very  plainly,  and  I  thought 
rather  curtly,  "  Give  me  that  bug,"  but  she  quickly 
resented  his  interference  and  flew  farther  away,  where 
she  sat  apparently  quite  discouraged  when  I  last  saw 
Ver. 


SHARP   EYES.  41 

The  bluebird  is  a  home  bird,  and  I  am  never  tired 
of  recurring^to  him.  His  coming  or  reappearance  in 
the  spring  marks  a  new  chapter  in  the  progress  of 
the  season  ;  things  are  never  quite  the  same  after 
one  has  heard  that  note.  The  past  spring  the  males 
came  about  a  week  in  advance  of  the  females.  A 
fine  male  lingered  about  my  grounds  and  orchard  all 
that  time,  apparently  waiting  the  arrival  of  his  mate. 
He  called  and  warbled  every  day,  as  if  he  felt  sure 
she  was  within  ear-shot,  and  could  be  hurried  up. 
Now  he  warbled  half-angrily  or  upbraidingly,  then 
coaxingly,  then  cheerily  and  confidently,  the  next 
moment  in  a  plaintive,  far-away  manner.  He  would 
half  open  his  wings,  and  twinkle  them  caressingly, 
as  if  beckoning  his  mate  to  his  heart.  One  morn- 
ing she  had  come,  but  was  shy  and  reserved.  The 
fond  male  flew  to  a  knot-hole  in  an  old  apple-tree, 
and  coaxed  her  to  his  side.  I  heard  a  fine  confi- 
dential warble,  —  the  old,  old  story.  But  the  female 
flew  to  a  near  tree,  and  uttered  her  plaintive,  home- 
sick note.  The  male  went  and  got  some  dry  grass 
or  bark  in  his  beak,  and  flew  again  to  the  hole  in 
the  old  tree,  and  promised  unremitting  devotion, 
but  the  other  said  "  Nay,"  and  flew  away  in  the  dis- 
tance. When  he  saw  her  going,  or  rather  heard 
her  distant  note,  he  dropped  his  stuff,  and  cried  out 
in  a  tone  that  said  plainly  eno?igh,  "  Wait  a  min- 
vte-.  One  word,  please,"  and  flew  swiftly  in  pursuit. 
He  won  her  before  long,  however,  and  early  in  Apri] 
the  pair  were  established  in  one  of  the  four  or  five 


42  SHARP   EYES. 

boxes  I  had  put  up  for  them,  but  not  until  they  had 
changed  their  minds  several  times.  As  soon  as  the 
first  brood  had  flown,  and  while  they  were  yet  under 
their  parents'  care,  they  began  another  nest  in  one  of 
the  other  boxes,  the  female,  as  usual,  doing  all  the 
work,  and  the  male  all  the  complimenting.  A  source 
of  occasional  great  distress  to  the  mother-bird  was  a 
white  cat  that  sometimes  followed  me  about.  The 
cat  had  never  been  known  to  catch  a  bird,  but  she 
had  a  way  of  watching  them  that  was  very  embarrass- 
ing to  the  bird.  Whenever  she  appeared,  the  mother 
bluebird  would  set  up  that  pitiful  melodious  plaint. 
One  morning  the  cat  was  stanrLug  by  me,  when  the 
bird  came  with  her  beak  loaded  with  building  mate- 
rial, and  alighted  above  me  to  survey  the  place,  be- 
fore going  into  the  box.  When  she  saw  the  cat,  she 
was  greatly  disturbed,  and  in  her  agitation  could  not 
keep  her  hold  upon  all  her  material.  Straw  after 
straw  came  eddying  down,  till  not  half  her  original 
burden  remained.  After  the  cat  had  gone  away,  the 
bird's  alarm  subsided,  till,  presently  seeing  the  coast 
clear,  she  flew  quickly  to  the  box  and  pitched  in  her 
remaining  straws  with  the  greatest  precipitation,  and, 
without  going  in  to  arrange  them,  as  was  her  wont, 
flew  away  in  evident  relief. 

In  the  cavity  of  an  apple-tree  but  a  few  yards  off, 
\nd  much  nearer  the  house  than  they  usually  build, 
a  pair  of  high-holes,  or  golden-shafted  wood-peck- 
ws,  took  up  their  abode.  A  knot-hole  which  led  to 
^e  decayed  interior  was  enlarged,  the  live  wood  be* 


SHARP   EYES.  43 

ing  cut  away  as  clean  as  a  squirrel  would  have  done 
it.  The  insi4e  preparations  I  could  not  witness,  but 
day  after  day,  as  I  passed  near,  I  heard  the  bird  ham- 
mering away,  evidently  beating  down  obstructions  and 
shaping  and  enlarging  the  cavity.  The  chips  were 
not  brought  out,  but  were  used  rather  to  floor  tho 
interior.  The  woodpeckers  are  not  nest-builders,  but 
rather  nest-carvers. 

The  time  seemed  very  short  before  the  voices  of 
the  young  were  heard  in  the  heart  of  the  old  tree,  — 
at  first  feebly,  but  waxing  stronger  day  by  day  until 
they  could  be  heard  many  rods  distant.  When  I  put 
my  hand  upon  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  they  would  set 
up  an  eager,  expectant  chattering ;  but  if  I  climbed 
up  it  toward  the  opening,  they  soon  detected  the  un- 
usual sound  and  would  hush  quickly,  only  now  and 
then  uttering  a  warning  note.  Long  before  they 
were  fully  fledged  they  clambered  up  to  the  orifice 
to  receive  their  food.  As  but  one  could  stand  in  the 
opening  at  a  time,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  elbowing 
and  struggling  for  this  position.  It  was  a  very  desir- 
able one  aside  from  the  advantages  it  had  wh^n  food 
was  served;  it  looked  out  upon  the  great,  shining 
world,  into  which  the  young  birds  seemed  never  tired 
of  gazing.  The  fresh  air  must  have  been  a  consider 
ation  also,  for  the  interior  of  a  high-hole's  dwelling  i\ 
not  sweet.  When  the  parent  birds  came  with  food, 
the  young  one  in  the  opening  did  not  get  it  all,  bu* 
tfter  he  had  received  a  portion,  either  on  his  owi 
tiotion  or  on  a  hint  from  the  old  one,  he  would  giv* 


44  SHARP   EYES. 

place  to  the  one  behind  him.  Still,  one  bird  evidently 
outstripped  his  fellows,  and  in  the  race  of  life  was  two 
or  three  days  in  advance  of  them.  His  voice  was 
loudest  and  his  head  oftenest  at  the  window.  But  I 
noticed  that  when  he  had  kept  the  position  too  long, 
the  others  evidently  made  it  uncomfortable  in  his 
rear,  and,  after  "  fidgeting  "  about  a  while,  he  would 
be  compelled  to  "  back  down."  But  retaliation  was 
then  easy,  and  I  fear  his  mates  spent  few  easy  mo- 
ments at  that  lookout.  They  would  close  their  eyes 
and  slide  back  into  the  cavity  as  if  the  world  had  sud- 
denly lost  all  its  charms  for  them. 

This  bird  was,  of  course,  the  first  to  leave  the  nest. 
For  two  days  before  that  event  he  kept  his  position 
in  the  opening  most  of  the  time  and  sent  forth  his 
strong  voice  incessantly.  The  old  ones  abstained 
from  feeding  him  almost  entirely,  no  doubt  to  en- 
courage his  exit.  As  I  stood  looking  at  him  one  aft- 
ternoon  and  noting  his  progress,  he  suddenly  reached 
a  resolution,  —  seconded,  I  have  no  doubt,  from  the 
rear,  —  and  launched  forth  upon  his  untried  wings. 
They  served  him  well  and  carried  him  about  fifty 
yards  up-hill  the  first  heat.  The  second  day  after, 
the  next  in  size  and  spirit  left  in  the  same  manner ; 
then  another,  till  only  one  remained.  The  parent 
birds  ceased  their  visits  to  him,  and  for  one  day  he 
called  and  called  till  our  ears  were  tired  of  the  sound. 
His  was  the  faintest  heart  of  all.  Then  he  had  none 
to  encourage  him  from  behind.  He  left  the  nest  and 
slung  to  the  outer  bowl  of  the  tree,  and  yelped  and 


SHAEP  EYES.  45 

piped  for  an  hour  longer ;  then  he  committed  himself 
fco  his  wings  and  went  his  way  like  the  rest. 

A  young  farmer  in  the  western  part  of  New  York, 
who  has  a  sharp,  discriminating  eye,  sends  me  some 
interesting  notes  about  a  tame  high-hole  he  once  had. 

"  Did  you  ever  notice,"  says  he,  "  that  the  high- 
hole  never  eats  anything  that  he  cannot  pick  up  with 
his  tongue  ?  At  least  this  was  the  case  with  a  young 
one  I  took  from  the  nest  and  tamed.  He  could 
thrust  out  his  tongue  two  or  three  inches,  and  it  was 
amusing  to  see  his  efforts  to  eat  currants  from  the 

o 

hand.  He  would  run  out  his  tongue  and  try  to  stick 
it  to  the  currant ;  failing  in  that,  he  would  bend  his 
tongue  around  it  like  a  hook  and  try  to  raise  it  by  a 
sudden  jerk.  But  he  never  succeeded,  the  round 
fruit  would  roll  and  slip  away  every  time.  He  never 
seemed  to  think  of  taking  it  in  his  beak.  His  tongue 
was  in  constant  use  to  find  out  the  nature  of  every- 
thing he  saw;  a  nail-hole  in  a  board  or  any  sim- 
ilar hole  was  carefully  explored.  If  he  was  held 
near  the  face  he  would  soon  be  attracted  by  the  eye 
and  thrust  his  tongue  into  it.  In  this  way  he  gained 
the  respect  of  a  number  of  half-grown  cats  that  were 
around  the  house.  I  wished  to  make  them  familiar 
to  each  other,  so  there  would  be  less  danger  of  their 
killing  him.  So  I  would  take  them  both  on  my  knee, 
when  the  bird  would  soon  notice  the  kitten's  eyes, 
and  leveling  his  bill  as  carefully  as  a  marksman  lev- 
els his  rifle,  he  would  remain  so  a  minute  when  he 
frould  dart  his  tongue  into  the  cat's  eye.  This  wag 


46  SHARP  EYES. 

held  by  the  cats  to  be  very  mysterious :  being  struck 
in  the  eye  bv  something  invisible  to  them.  They 
soon  acquired  such  a  terror  of  him  that  they  would 
avoid  him  and  run  away  whenever  they  saw  his  bill 
turned  in  their  direction.  He  never  would  swallow 
a  grasshopper  even  when  it  was  placed  in  his  throat ; 
he  would  shake  himself  until  he  had  thrown  it  out  of 
his  mouth.  His  'best  hold'  was  ants.  He  never 
was  surprised  at  anything,  and  never'  was  afraid  of 
anything.  He  would  drive  the  turkey  gobbler  and 
the  rooster.  He  would  advance  upon  them  holding 
one  wing  up  as  high  as  possible,  as  if  to  strike  with 
it,  and  shuffle  along  the  ground  toward  them,  scold- 
ing all  the  while  in  a  harsh  voice.  I  feared  at  first 
that  they  might  kill  him,  but  I  soon  found  that  he 
was  able  to  take  care  of  himself.  I  would  turn  over 
stones  and  dig  into  ant-hills  for  him,  and  he  would 
lick  up  the  ants  so  fast  that  a  stream  of  them  seemed 
going  into  his  mouth  unceasingly.  I  kept  him  till 
late  in  the  fall,  when  he  disappeared,  probably  going 
south,  and  I  never  saw  him  again." 

My  correspondent  also  sends  me  some  interest- 
ing observations  about  the  cuckoo.  He  says  a  large 
gooseberry-bush  standing  in  the  border  of  an  old 
hedge-row,  in  the  midst  of  open  fields,  and  not  far 
from  his  house,  was  occupied  by  a  pair  of  cuckoos  for 
two  seasons  in  succession,  and,  after  an  interval  of  a 
year,  for  two  seasons  more.  This  gave  him  a  good 
chance  to  observe  them.  He  says  the  mother-bird 
ays  a  single  egg,  and  sits  upon  it  a  number  of  dayg 


SHARP   EYES.  47 

before  laying  the  second,  so  that  he  has  seen  one 
young  bird  nearly  grown,  a  second  just  hatched,  and 
a  whole  egg  all  in  the  nest  at  once.  "  So  far  as  I 
have  seen,  this  is  the  settled  practice,  —  the  young 
leaving  the  nest  one  at  a  time  to  the  number  of  six  or 
eight.  The  young  have  quite  the  look  of  the  young 
of  the  dove  in  many  respects.  When  nearly  grown 
they  are  covered  with  long  blue  pin -feathers  as  long 
as  darning-needles,  without  a  bit  of  plumage  on  them. 
They  part  on  the  back  and  hang  down  on  each  side 
by  their  own  weight.  With  its  curious  feathers  and 
misshapen  body  the  young  bird  is  anything  but  hand- 
some. They  never  open  their  mouths  when  ap- 
proached, as  many  young  birds  do,  but  sit  perfectly 
still,  hardly  moving  when  touched."  He  also  notes 
the  unnatural  indifference  of  the  mother-bird  when 
her  nest  and  young  are  approached.  She  makes  no 
sound,  but  sits  quietly  on  a  near  branch  in  apparent 
perfect  unconcern. 

These  observations,  together  with  the  fact  that  the 
egg  of  the  cuckoo  is  occasionally  found  in  the  nests 
of  other  birds,  raise  the  inquiry  whether  our  bird  is 
slowly  relapsing  into  the  habit  of  the  European  spe- 
cies, which  always  foists  its  egg  upon  other  birds ;  or 
whether,  on  the  other  hand,  it  be  not  mending  its 
manners  in  this  respect.  It  has  but  little  to  unlearn 
or  forget  in  the  one  case,  but  great  progress  to  make 
in  the  other.  How  far  is  its  rudimentary  nest  —  a 
mere  platform  of  coarse  twigs  and  dry  stalks  of  weeds 
—  from  the  deep,  compact,  finely  woven  and  finely 


48  SHARP  EYES. 

modeled  nest  of  the  goldfinch  or  king-bird,  and  what 
a  gulf  between  its  indifference  toward  its  young  and 
their  solicitude  !  Its  irregular  manner  of  laying  also 
seems  better  suited  to  a  parasite  like  our  cow-bird,  or 
the  European  cuckoo,  than  to  a  regular  nest-builder. 

This  observer,  like  most  sharp-eyed  persons,  sees 
plenty  of  interesting  things  as  he  goes  about  his 
work.  He  one  day  saw  a  white  swallow,  which  is  of 
rare  occurrence.  He  saw  a  bird,  a  sparrow  he  thinks, 
fly  against  the  side  of  a  horse  and  fill  his  beak  with 
hail  from  the  loosened  coat  of  the  animal.  He  saw  a 
shrike  pursue  a  chickadee,  when  the  latter  escaped  by 
taking  refuge  in  a  small  hole  in  a  tree.  One  day  in 
early  spring  he  saw  two  hen-hawks  that  were  circling 
and  screaming  high  in  air,  approach  each  other,  ex- 
tend a  claw  and  clasping  them  together,  fall  toward 
the  earth  flapping  and  struggling  as  if  they  were  tied 
together ;  on  nearing  the  ground  they  separated  and 
soared  aloft  again.  He  supposed  that  it  was  not  a 
passage  of  war  but  of  love,  and  that  the  hawks  were 
toying  fondly  with  each  other. 

He  further  relates  a  curious  circumstance  of  find- 
ing a  humming-bird  in  the  upper  part  of  a  barn  with 
its  bill  stuck  fast  in  a  crack  of  one  of  the  large  tim 
bers,  dead,  of  course,  with  wings  extended,  and  as  dry 
AS  a  chip.  The  bird  seems  to  have  died  as  it  had 
lived,  on  the  wing,  and  its  last  act  was  indeed  a 
ghastly  parody  of  its  living  career.  Fancy  this  nim- 
ble, flashing  sprite,  whose  life  was  passed  probing  the 
Uoneyed  depths  of  flowers,  at  last  thrusting  its  bill 


SHARP   EYES.  49 

into  a  crack  in  a  dry  timber  in  a  hay -loft,  and,  with 
spread  wings,  ending  its  existence. 

When  the  air  is  damp  and  heavy,  swallows  fre- 
quently hawk  for  insects  about  cattle  and  moving 
herds  in  the  field.  My  farmer  describes  how  they 
attended  him  one  foggy  day,  as  he  was  mowing  in  the 
meadow  with  a  mowing-machine.  It  had  been  foggy 
for  two  days,  and  the  swallows  were  very  hungry, 
and  the  insects  stupid  and  inert.  When  the  sound  of 
his  machine  was  heard,  the  swallows  appeared  and  at- 
tended him  like  a  brood  of  hungry  chickens.  He 
says  there  was  a  continued  rush  of  purple  wings  over 
the  "  cut-bar/'  and  just  where  it  was  causing  the 
grass  to  tremble  and  fall.  Without  his  assistance  the 
swallows  would  doubtless  have  gone  hungry  yet  an- 
other day. 

Of  the  hen-hawk,  he  has  observed  that  both  male 
and  female  take  part  in  incubation.  "  I  was  rather 
surprised,"  he  says,  "on  one  occasion,  to  see  how 
quickly  they  change  places  on  the  nest.  The  nest 
was  in  a  tall  beech,  and  the  leaves  were  not  yet 
fully  out.  I  could  see  the  head  and  neck  of  the 
hawk  over  the  edge  of  the  nest,  when  I  saw*  the 
other  hawk  coming  down  through  the  air  at  full 
speed.  I  expected  he  would  alight  near  by,  but  in- 
stead of  that  he  struck  directly  upon  the  nest,  his 
mate  getting  out  of  the  way  barely  in  time  to  avoid 
being  hit ;  it  seemed  almost  as  if  he  had  knocked  her 
off  the  nest.  I  hardly  see  how  they  can  make  such  a 
rush  on  the  nest  without  danger  to  the  eggs." 
4 


60  SHARP  EYES. 

The  king-bird  will  worry  the  hawk  as  a  whiffet  dog 
will  worry  a  bear.  It  is  by  his  persistence  and  au- 
dacity, not  by  any  injury  he  is  capable  of  dealing  his 
great  antagonist.  The  king-bird  seldom  more  than 
dogs  the  hawk,  keeping  above  and  between  his  wings, 
and  making  a  great  ado ;  but  my  correspondent  says 
he  once  "  saw  a  king-bird  riding  on  a  hawk's  back. 
The  hawk  flew  as  fast  as  possible,  and  the  king-bird 
sat  upon  his  shoulders  in  triumph  until  they  had 
passed  out  of  sight/'  —  tweaking  his  feathers,  no 
doubt,  and  threatening  to  scalp  him  the  next  moment. 

That  near  relative  of  the  king-bird,  the  great 
crested  fly-catcher,  has  one  well  known  peculiarity : 
he  appears  never  to  consider  his  nest  finished  until  it 
contains  a  cast-off  snake-skin.  My  alert  correspond- 
ent one  day  saw  him  eagerly  catch  up  an  onion  skin 
and  make  off  with  it,  either  deceived  by  it  or  else 
thinking  it  a  good  substitute  for  the  coveted  material. 

One  day  in  May,  walking  in  the  woods,  I  came 
apon  the  nest  of  a  whip-poor-will,  or  rather  its  eggs, 
for  it  builds  no  nest,  —  two  elliptical  whitish  spotted 
eggs  lying  upon  the  dry  leaves.  My  foot  was  within 
a  yard  of  the  mother-bird  before  she  flew.  I  won- 
dered what  a  sharp  eye  would  detect  curious  or  char- 
acteristic in  the  ways  of  the  bird,  so  I  came  to  the 
place  many  times  and  had  a  look.  It  was  always  a 
task  to  separate  the  bird  from  her  surroundings , 
though  I  stood  within  a  few  feet  of  her,  and  knew 
exactly  where  to  look.  One  had  to  bear  on  with  hia 
eye,  as  it  were,  and  refuse  to  be  baffled.  The  sticki 


SHARP 

and  leaves,  and  bits  of  black  or  dark-brown  bark,  were 
all  exactly  copied  in  the  bird's  plumage.  And  then 
she  did  sit  so  close,  and  simulate  so  well  a  shapeless 
decaying  piece  of  wood  or  bark!  Twice  I  brought 
a  companion,  and  guiding  his  eye  to  the  spot,  noted 
how  difficult  it  was  for  him  to  make  out  there,  in  full 
view  upon  the  dry  leaves,  any  semblance  to  a  bird. 
When  the  bird  returned  after  being  disturbed,  she 
would  alight  within  a  few  inches  of  her  eggs,  and 
then,  after  a  moment's  pause,  hobble  awkwardly  upon 
them. 

After  the  young  had  appeared  all  the  wit  of  the 
bird  came  into  play.  I  was  on  hand  the  next  day, 
I  think.  The  mother-bird  sprang  up  when  I  was 
within  a  pace  of  her,  and  in  doing  so  fanned  the 
leaves  with  her  wings  till  they  sprang  up  too ;  as 
the  leaves  started  the  young  started,  and,  being  of 
the  same  color,  to  tell  which  was  the  leaf  and  which 
the  bird  was  a  trying  task  to  any  eye.  I  came  the 
next  day,  when  the  same  tactics  were  repeated.  Once 
a  leaf  fell  upon  one  of  the  young  birds  and  nearly 
hid  it.  The  young  are  covered  with  a  reddish  down, 
like  a  young  partridge,  and  soon  follow  their  mother 
about.  When  disturbed,  they  gave  but  one  leap, 
then  settled  down,  perfectly  motionless  and  stupid, 
with  eyes  closed.  The  parent  bird,  on  these  occa- 
sions, made  frantic  efforts  to  decoy  me  away  from 
her  young.  She  would  fly  a  few  paces  and  fall  upon 
her  breast,  and  a  spasm,  like  that  of  death,  would 
run  through  her  tremulous  outstretched  wings  and 


52  SHARP  EYES. 

prostrate  body.  She  kept  a  shart  eye  out  the  mean 
while  to  see  if  the  ruse  took,  and  if  it  did  not,  she  was 
quickly  cured,  and  moving  about  to  some  other  point, 
tried  to  draw  my  attention  as  before.  When  followed 
she  always  alighted  upon  the  ground,  dropping  down 
in  a  sudden  peculiar  way.  The  second  or  third  day 
both  old  and  young  had  disappeared. 
^  The  whip-poor-will  walks  as  awkwardly  as  a  swal- 
low, which  is  as  awkward  as  a  man  in  a  bag,  and 
yet  she  manages  to  lead  her  young  about  the  woods. 
The  latter,  I  think,  move  by  leaps  and  sudden  spurts, 
their  protective  coloring  shielding  them  most  effect- 
ively. Wilson  once  came  upon  the  mother-bird  and 
her  brood  in  the  woods,  and,  though  they  were  at  his 
very  feet,  was  so  baffled  by  the  concealment  of  the 
young  that  he  was  about  to  give  up  the  search,  much 
disappointed,  when  he  perceived  something  "like  a 
slight  moldiness  among  the  withered  leaves,  and,  on 
stooping  down,  discovered  it  to  be  a  young  whip-poor- 
will,  seemingly  asleep."  Wilson's  description  of  the 
young  is  very  accurate,  as  its  downy  covering  does 
look  precisely  like  a  "  slight  moldiness."  Returning 
a  few  moments  afterward  to  the  spot  to  get  a  pencil 
he  had  forgotten,  he  could  find  neither  old  nor  young. 
It  takes  an  eye  to  see  a  partridge  in  the  woods, 
motionless  upon  the  leaves ;  this  sense  needs  to  be 
is  sharp  as  that  of  smell  in  hounds  and  pointers,  and 
ret  I  know  an  unkempt  youth  that  seldom  fails  to 
see  the  bird  and  shoot  it  before  it  takes  wing.  I 
think  he  sees  it  as  soon  as  it  sees  him,  and  before 


SHARP   EYES.  53 

its  suspects  itself  seen.  What  a  training  to  the  eye 
is  hunting !  to  pick  out  the  game  from  its  surround- 
ings, the  grouse  from  the  leaves,  the  gray  squirrel 
from  the  mossy  oak  limb  it  hugs  so  closely,  the  red 
fox  from  the  ruddy  or  brown-or  gray  field,  the  rabbit 
from  the  stubble,  or  the  white  hare  from  the  snow, 
requires  the  best  powers  of  this  sense.  A  woodchuck 
motionless  in  the  fields  or  upon  a  rock,  looks  very 
much  like  a  large  stone  or  bowlder,  yet  a  keen  eye 
knows  the  difference  at  a  glance,  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away. 

A  man  has  a  sharper  eye  than  a  dog,  or  a  fox,  or 
than  any  of  the  wild  creatures,  but  not  so  sharp  an  ear 
or  nose.  But  in  the  birds  he  finds  his  match.  How 
quickly  the  old  turkey  discovers  the  hawk,  a  mere 
speck  against  the  sky,  and  how  quickly  the  hawk 
discovers  you  if  you  happen  to  be  secreted  in  the 
bushes,  or  behind  the  fence  near  which  he  alights. 
One  advantage  the  bird  surely  has,  and  that  is,  owing 
k)  the  form,  structure,  and  position  of  the  eye,  it  has 
a  much  larger  field  of  vision  —  indeed,  can  probably 
see  in  nearly  every  direction  at  the  same  instant, 
behind  as  well  as  before.  Man's  field  of  vision  em- 
braces less  than  half  a  circle  horizontally,  and  still 
less  vertically  ;  his  brow  and  brain  prevent  him  from 
seeing  within  many  degrees  of  the  zenith' without  a 
movement  of  the  head  ;  the  bird,  on  the  other  hand, 
lakes  in  nearly  the  whole  sphere  at  a  glance. 

I  find  I  see,  almost  without  effort,  nearly  every 
bird  within  sight  in  the  field  or  wood  I  pass  through 


54  SHARP  EYES. 

(a  flit  of  the  wing,  a  flirt  of  the  tail  are  enough, 
though  the  flickering  leaves  do  all  conspire  to  hide 
them),  and  that  with  like  ease  the  birds  see  me, 
though,  unquestionably,  the  chances  are  immensely 
hi  their  favor.  The  eye  sees  what  it  has  the  means 
of  seeing,  truly.  You  must  have  the  bird  in  your 
heart  before  you  can  find  it  in  the  bush.  The  eye 
must  have  purpose  and  aim.  No  one  ever  yet  found 
the  walking  fern  who  did  not  have  the  walking  fern 
in  his  mind.  A  person  whose  eye  is  full  of  Indian 
relics  picks  them  up  in  every  field  he  walks  through. 
One  season  I  was  interested  in  the  tree-frogs  ; 
especially  the  tiny  pipers  that  one  hears  about  the 
woods  and  brushy  fields  —  the  hylas  of  the  swamps 
become  a  denizen  of  the  trees  ;  I  had  never  seen  him 
in  this  new  role.  But  this  season  having  them  in 
mind,  or  rather  being  ripe  for  them,  I  several  times 
came  across  them.  One  Sunday,  walking  amid  some 
bushes,  I  captured  two.  They  leaped  before  me  as 
doubtless  they  had  done  many  times  before,  but  though 
not  looking  for  or  thinking  of  them,  yet  they  were 
quickly  recognized,  because  the  eye  had  been  com- 
missioned to  find  them.  On  another  occasion,  not 
long  afterward,  I  was  hurriedly  loading  my  gun  in  the 
October  woods  in  hopes  of  overtaking  a  gray  squirrel 
that  was  fast  escaping  through  the  tree  tops,  when 
one  of  these  lilliput  frogs,  the  color  of  the  fast-yellow- 
ing leaves  leaped  near  me.  I  saw  him  only  out  of 
the  corner  of  my  eye  and  yet  bagged  him,  because  I 
aad  already  made  him  my  own. 


SHARP   EYES.  55 

Nevertheless,  the  habit  of  observation  is  the  habit 
of  clear  and  decisive  gazing ;  not  by  a  first  casual 
glance,  but  by  a  steady  deliberate  aim  of  the  eye 
are  the  rare  and  characteristic  things  discovered. 
You  must  look  intently  and  hold  your  eye  firmly  to 
the  spot,  to  see  more  than  do  the  rank  and  file  of 
mankind.  The  sharp-shooter  picks  out  his  man  and 
knows  him  with  fatal  certainty  from  a  stump,  or  a 
.rock,  or  a  cap  on  a  pole.  The  phrenologists  do 
well  to  locate,  not  only  form,  color,  weight,  etc.,  in 
the  region  of  the  eye,  but  a  faculty  which  they  call 
individuality  —  that  which  separates,  discriminates, 
and  sees  in  every  object  its  essential  character.  This 
is  just  as  necessary  to  the  naturalist  as  to  the  artist 
or  the  poet.  The  sharp  eye  notes  specific  points 
and  differences,  —  it  seizes  upon  and  preserves  the 
individuality  of  the  thing. 

Persons  frequently  describe  to  me  some  bird  they 
have  seen  or  heard  and  ask  me  to  name  it,  but  in  most 
cases  the  bird  might  be  any  one  of  a  dozen,  or  else 
it  is  totally  unlike  any  bird  found  on  this  continent. 
They  have  either  seen  falsely  or  else  vaguely.  Not 
so  the  farm  youth  who  wrote  me  one  winter  day  that 
ue  had  seen  a  single  pair  of  strange  birds,  which  he 
describes  as  follows  :  "  They  were  about  the  size  of 
the  <  chippie,'  the  tops  of  their  heads  were  red,  and 
the  breast  of  the  male  was  of  the  same  color,  while 
that  of  the  female  was  much  lighter ;  their  rumps 
*ere  also  faintly  tinged  with  red.  If  I  have  described 
Vhem  so  that  you  would  know  them,  please  write  me 


56  SHARP   EYES. 

their  names."  There  can  be  little  doubt  but  the 
young  observer  had  seen  a  pair  of  red-polls,  —  a  bird 
related  to  the  goldfinch,  and  that  occasionally  comes 
down  to  us  in  the  winter  from  the  far  north.  An- 
other time,  the  same  youth  wrote  that  he  had  seen  a 
strange  bird,  the  color  of  a  sparrow,  that  alighted  on 
fences  and  buildings  as  well  as  upon  the  ground  and 
that  walked.  This  last  fact  showed  the  youth's  dis- 
criminating eye  and  settled  the  case.  I  knew  it  to 
be  a  species  of  lark,  and  from  the  size,  color,  season, 
etc.,  the  tit-lark.  But  how  many  persons  would  have 
observed  that  the  bird  walked  instead  of  hopped  ? 

Some  friends  of  mine  who  lived  in  the  country 
tried  to  describe  to  me  a  bird  that  built  a  nest  in  a 
tree  within  a  few  feet  of  the  house.  As  it  was  a 
brown  bird,  I  should  have  taken  it  for  a  wood-thrush, 
had  not  the  nest  been  described  as  so  thin  and  loose 
that  from  "beneath  the  eggs  could  be  distinctly  seen. 
The  most  pronounced  feature  in  the  description  was 
the  barred  appearance  of  the  under  side  of  the  bird's 
tail.  I  was  quite  at  sea,  until  one  day,  when  we 
were  driving  out,  a  cuckoo  flew  across  the  road  in 
front  of  us,  when  my  friends  exclaimed,  "  There  is 
our  bird!"  I  had  never  known  a  cuckoo  to  build 
near  a  house,  and  I  had  never  noted  the  appearance 
the  tail  presents  when  viewed  from  beneath ;  but  it 
the  bird  had  been  described  in  its  most  obvious 
features,  as  slender,  with  a  long  tail,  cinnamon  brown 
ubove  and  white  beneath,  with  a  curved  bill,  any  one 
who  knew  the  bird  would  have  recognized  the  por 
trait. 


SHARP   EYES.  57 

We  think  we  have  looked  at  a  thing  sharply  until 
we  are  asked  for  its  specific  features.  I  thought  I 
knew  exactly  the  form  of  the  leaf  of  the  tulip-tree, 
until  one  day  a  lady  asked  me  to  draw  the  outlines 
of  one.  A  good  observer  is  quick  to  take  a  hint  and 
to  follow  it  up.  Most  of  the  facts  of  nature,  espe- 
cially in  the  life  of  the  birds  and  animals,  are  well 
screened.  "We  do  not  see  the  play  because  we  do 
not  look  intently  enough.  The  other  day  I  was 
sitting  with  a  friend  upon  a  high  rock  in  the  woods, 
near  a  small  stream,  when  we  saw  a  water-snake 
swimming  across  a  pool  toward  the  opposite  bank. 
Any  eye  would  have  noted  it,  perhaps  nothing  more. 
A  little  closer  and  sharper  gaze  revealed  the  fact  that 
the  snake  bore  something  in  its  mouth,  which,  as  we 
went  down  to  investigate,  proved  to  be  a  small  cat- 
fish, three  or  four  inches  long.  The  snake  had  cap- 
tured it  in  the  pool,  and,  like  any  other  fisherman, 
wanted  to  get  its  prey  to  dry  land,  although  it  itself 
lived  mostly  in  the  water.  Here,  we  said,  is  being 
enacted  a  little  tragedy,  that  would  have  escaped  any 
but  sharp  eyes.  The  snake,  which  was  itself  small 
had  the  fish  by  the  throat,  the  hold  of  vantage  among 
all  creatures,  and  clung  to  it  with  great  tenacity.  The 
tnake  knew  that  its  best  tactics  was  to  get  upon  dry 
land  as  soon  as  possible.  It  could  not  swallow  its 
victim  alive,  and  it  could  not  strangle  it  in  the  water. 
For  a  while  it  tried  to  kill  its  game  by  holding  it  up 
put  of  the  water,  but  the  fish  grew  heavy,  and  every 
^ew  moments  its  struggles  brought  down  the  snake's 


58  SHARP  EYES. 

head.  This  would  not  do.  Compressing  the  fish's 
throat  would  not  shut  off  its  breath  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, so  the  wily  serpent  tried  to  get  ashore 
with  it,  and  after  several  attempts  succeeded  in 
effecting  a  landing  on  a  flat  rock.  But  the  fish  died 
hard.  Cat-fish  do  not  give  up  the  ghost  in  a  hurry. 
Its  throat  was  becoming  congested,  but  the  snake's 
distended  jaws  must  have  ached.  It  was  like  a  pet- 
rified gape.  Then  the  spectators  became  very  curious 
and  close  in  their  scrutiny,  and  the  snake  determined 
to  withdraw  from  the  public  gaze  and  finish  the  busi- 
ness in  hand  to  its  own  notions.  But,  when  gently 
but  firmly  remonstrated  with  by  my  friend  with  his 
walking-stick,  it  dropped  the  fish  and  retreated  in 
high  dudgeon  beneath  a  stone  in  the  bed  of  the  creek. 
The  fish,  with  a  swollen  and  angry  throat,  went  its 
way  also. 

Birds,  I  say,  have  wonderfully  keen  eyes.  Throw 
a  fresh  bone  or  a  piece  of  meat  upon  the  snow  in 
winter,  and  see  how  soon  the  crows  will  discover  it 
and  be  on  hand.  If  it  be  near  the  house  or  barn, 
the  crow  that  first  discovers  it  will  alight  near  it,  to 
make  sure  he  is  not  deceived  ;  then  he  will  go  away, 
and  soon  return  with  a  companion.  The  two  alight 
a  few  yards  from  the  bone,  and  after  some  delay, 
during  which  the  vicinity  is  sharply  scrutinized,  one 
of  the  crows  advances  boldly  to  within  a  few  feet  of 
the  coveted  prize.  Here  he  pauses,  and  if  no  trick 
is  discovered,  and  the  meat  be  indeed  meat,  he  seize? 
it  and  makes  off. 


SHARP  EYES,  59 

One  midwinter  I  cleared  away  the  snow  under  an 
apple-tree  near  the  house  and  scattered  some  corn 
there.  I  had  not  seen  a  blue-jay  for  weeks,  yet  that 
very  day  they  found  my  corn,  and  after  that  they 
came  daily  and  partook  of  it,  holding  the  kernels 
under  their  feet  upon  the  limbs  of  the  trees  and 
pecking  them  vigorously. 

Of  course  the  woodpecker  and  his  kind  have  sharp 
eyes,  still  I  was  surprised  to  see  how  quickly  Downy 
found  out  some  bones  that  were  placed  in  a  con- 
venient place  under  the  shed  to  be  pounded  up  for 
the  hens.  In  going  out  to  the  barn  I  often  disturbed 
him  making  a  meal  off  the  bits  of  meat  that  still  ad- 
hered to  them. 

"  Look  intently  enough  at  anything,"  said  a  poet 
to  me  one  day,  "  and  you  will  see  something  that 
would  otherwise  escape  you."  I  thought  of  the  re- 
mark as  I  sat  on  a  stump  in  an  opening  of  the  woods 
one  spring  day.  I  saw  a  small  hawk  approaching ; 
he  flew  to  a  tall  tulip-tree  and  alighted  on  a  large 
limb  near  the  top.  He  eyed  me  and  I  eyed  him. 
Then  the  bird  disclosed  a  trait  that  was  :ftew  to  me  ; 
he  hopped  along  the  limb  to  a  small  cavity  near  the 
trunk,  when  he  thrust  in  his  head  and  pulled  out 
some  small  object  and  fell  to  eating  it.  After  he  had 
partaken  of  it  for  some  minutes  he  put  the  remainder 
back  in  his  larder  and  flew  away.  I  had  seen  some- 
thing like  feathers  eddying  slowly  down  as  the  hawk 
ate,  and  on  approaching  the  spot  found  the  feathers 
«f  a  sparrow  here  and  there  clinging  to  the  bushes 


60  SHARP   EYES. 

beneath  the  tree.  The  hawk  then  —  commonly 
called  the  chicken  hawk  —  is  as  provident  as  a  mouse 
or  squirrel,  and  lays  by  a  store  against  a  time  of  need, 
but  I  should  not  have  discovered  the  fact  had  I  not 
held  my  eye  to  him. 

An  observer  of  the  birds  is  attracted  by  any  un- 
usual sound  or  commotion  among  them.  In  May  or 
June,  when  other  birds  are  most  vocal,  the  jay  is  a 
silent  bird ;  he  goes  sneaking  about  the  orchards  and 
the  groves  as  silent  as  a  pickpocket ;  he  is  robbing 
birds'-nests  and  he  is  very  anxious  that  nothing  should 
be  said  about  it,  but  in  the  fall  none  so  quick  and 
loud  to  cry  "  Thief,  thief "  as  he.  One  December 
morning  a  troop  of  them  discovered  a  little  screech- 
owl  secreted  in  the  hollow  trunk  of  an  old  apple-tree 
near  my  house.  How  they  found  the  owl  out  is  a 
mystery,  since  it  never  ventures  forth  in  the  light  of 
day ;  but  they  did,  and  proclaimed  the  fact  with  great 
emphasis.  I  suspect  the  bluebirds  first  told  them, 
for  these  birds  are  constantly  peeping  into  holes  and 
Crannies,  both  spring  and  fall.  Some  unsuspecting 
bird  probably  entered  the  cavity  prospecting  for  a 
place  for  next  year's  nest,  or  else  looking  out  a  likely 
place  to  pass  a  cold  night,  when  it  has  rushed  out 
with  important  news.  A  boy  who  should  unwit- 
tingly venture  into  a  bear's  den  when  Bruin  was  at 
home  could  not  be  more  astonished  and  alarmed  than 
a  bluebird  would  be  on  finding  itself  in  the  cavity  of 
a  decayed  tree  with  an  owl.  At  any  rate  the  blue- 
birds joined  the  jays  in  calling  the  attention  of  aU 


SHARP   EYES.  61 

whom  it  might  concern  to  the  fact  that  a  culprit  of 
some  sort  was  hiding  from  the  light  of  day  in  the  old 
apple-tree.  I  heard  the  notes  of  warning  and  alarm 
and  approached  to  within  eye-shot.  The  bluebirds 
were  cautious  and  hovered  about  uttering  their  pe- 
culiar twittering  calls  ;  but  the  jays  were  bolder  and 
took  turns  looking  in  at  the  cavity,  and  deriding  the 
poor,  shrinking  owl.  A  jay  would  alight  in  the  en- 
trance of  the  hole  and  flirt  and  peer  and  attitudinize, 
and  then  fly  away  crying  "  Thief,  thief,  thief,"  at 
the  top  of  his  voice. 

I  climbed  up  and  peered  into  the  opening,  and 
could  just  descry  the  owl  clinging  to  the  inside  of 
the  tree.  I  reached  in  and  took  him  out,  giving  lit- 
tle heed  to  the  threatening  snapping  of  his  beak.  He 
was  as  red  as  a  fox  and  as  yellow-eyed  as  a  cat.  He 
made  no  effort  to  escape,  but  planted  his  claws  in  my 
forefinger  and  clung  there  with  a  grip  that  soon 
grew  uncomfortable.  I  placed  him  in  the  loft  of  an 
out-house  in  hopes  of  getting  better  acquainted  with 
him.  By  day  he  was  a  very  willing  prisoner,  scarcely 
moving  at  all,  even  when  approached  and  touched 
with  the  hand,  but  looking  out  upon  the  world  with 
half -closed,  sleepy  eyes.  But  at  night  what  a  change ; 
how  alert,  how  wild,  how  active !  He  was  like  an- 
other bird  ;  he  darted  about  with  wide,  fearful  eyes, 
and  regarded  me  like  a  cornered  cat.  I  opened  the 
window,  and  swiftly,  but  as  silent  as  a  shadow,  he 
glided  out  into  the  congenial  darkness,  and  perhaps, 
?re  this,  has  revenged  himself  upon  the  sleeping  jay 
<*r  bluebird  that  first  betrayed  his  hiding-place. 


STRAWBERRIES. 


STRAWBERRIES. 

WAS  it  old  Dr.  Parr  who  said  or  sighed  in  his  last 
illness,  "  Oh,  if  I  can  only  live  till  strawberries  come  ! " 
The  old  scholar  imagined  that  if  he  could  weather  it 
till  then,  the  berries  would  carry  him  through.  No 
doubt  he  has  turned  from  the  drugs  and  the  nos- 
trums, or  from  the  hateful  food,  to  the  memory  of  the 
pungent,  penetrating,  and  unspeakably  fresh  quality 
of  the  strawberry  with  the  deepest  longing.  The 
very  thought  of  these  crimson  lobes,  embodying  as  it 
were  the  first  glow  and  ardor  of  the  young  summer, 
and  with  their  power  to  unsheathe  the  taste  and  spur 
the  flagging  appetite,  made  life  seem  possible  and 
desirable  with  him.  ^ 

The  strawberry  is  always  the  hope  of  the  invalid, 
and  sometimes,  no  doubt,  hk  salvation.  It  is  the 
first  and  finest  relish  among  fruits,  and  well  merits 
Dr.  Boteler's  memorable  saying,  that  "  doubtless  God 
might  have  made  a  better  berry  than  the  strawberry, 
but,  doubtless,  God  never  did." 

On  the  threshold  of  summer,  nature  proffers  us 
this,  her  virgin  fruit ;  more  rich  and  sumptuous  are 


66  STRAWBERRIES. 

to  follow,  but  the  wild  delicacy  and  fillip  of  the  straw- 
berry are  never  repeated,  —  that  keen  feathered  edge 
greets  the  tongue  in  nothing  else. 

Let  me  not  be  afraid  of  overpraising  it,  but  probe 
and  probe  for  words  to  hint  its  surprising  virtues. 
We  may  well  celebrate  it  with  festivals  and  music. 
It  has  that  indescribable  quality  of  all  first  things  — 
that  shy,  uncloying,  provoking  barbed  sweetness.  It 
*  is  eager  and  sanguine  as  youth,  dt  is  born  of  the 
copious  dews,  the  fragrant  nights,  the  tender  skies, 
the  plentiful  rains  of  the  early  season.  The  singing 
of  birds  is  in  it,  and  the  health  and  frolic  of  lusty 
nature.  It  is  the  product  of  liquid  May  touched  by 
the  June  sun.  It  has  the  tartness,  the  briskness,  the 
unruliness  of  spring,  and  the  aroma  and  intensity 
of  summer.  ;  y  a 

Oh,  the  strawberry  days !  how  vividly  they  come 
back  to  one !  The  smell  of  clover  in  the  fields,  of 
blooming  rye  on  the  hills,  of  the  wild  grape  beside 
the  woods,  and  of  the  sweet  honeysuckle  and  spiraea 
about  the  house.  The  first  hot,  moist  days.  The 
\  daisies  and  buttercups,  the  songs  of  the  birds,  their 
first  reckless  jollity  and  love-making  over,  the  full 
tender  foliage  of  the  trees,  the  bees  swarming,  and  the 
air  strung  with  resonant  musical  chords.  The  time 
of  the  sweetest  and  most  succulent  grass,  when  the 
cows  come  home  with  aching  udders.  Indeed,  the 
strawberry  belongs  to  the  juiciest  time  of  the  year. 

What  a  challenge  it  is  to  the  taste,  how  it  bite? 
back  again !  and  is  there  any  other  sound  like  the 


STRAWBERRIES. 


Bnap  and  crackle  with  which  it  salutes  the  ear  on  be- 
ing plucked  from  the  stems  ?  It  is  a  threat  to  one 
sense  that  the  other  is  soon  to  verify.  It  snaps  to 
the  ear  as  it  smacks  to  the  tongue.  All  other  berries 
are  tame  beside  it. 

The  plant  is  almost  an  evergreen  ;  it  loves  the 
coverlid  of  the  snow,  and  will  keep  fresh  through  the 
severest  winters  with  a  slight  protection.  The  frost 
leaves  its  virtues  in  it.  The  berry  is  a  kind  of  vege- 
table snow.  How  cool,  how  tonic,  how  melting,  and 
how  perishable  !  It  is  almost  as  easy  to  keep  frost. 
Heat  kills  it,  and  sugar  quickly  breaks  up  its  cells. 

Is  there  anything  like  the  odor  of  strawberries? 
The  next  best  thing  to  tasting  them  is  to  smell  them  ; 
one  may  put  his  nose  to  the  dish  while  the  fruit  is 
yet  too  rare  and  choice  for  his  fingers.  Touch  not 
and  taste  not,  but  take  a  good  smell  and  go  mad. 
Last  fall  I  potted  some  of  the  Downer,  and  in  the 
winter  grew  them  in  the  house.  In  March  the  ber- 
ries were  ripe,  only  four  or  five  on  a  plant,  just 
enough,  all  told,  to  make  one  consider  whether  it  was 
not  worth  while  to  kill  off  the  rest  of  the  household, 
BO  that  the  berries  need  not  be  divided.  But  if  every 
tongue  could  not  have  a  feast,  every  nose  banqueted 
daily  upon  them.  They  filled  the  house  with  per- 
fume. The  Downer  is  remarkable  in  this  respect. 
Grown  in  the  open  field,  it  surpasses  in  its  odor  any 
strawberry  of  nay  acquaintance.  And  it  is  scarcely 
less  agreeable  to  the  tas'e.  It  is  a  very  beautiful 
berry  to  look  upon,  round,  light  pink,  with  a  delicatef 


88  STRAWBERRIES. 

fine- grained  expression.  Some  berries  shine,  the 
Downer  glows  as  if  there  were  a  red  bloom  upon  it. 
Its  core  is  firm  and  white,  its  skin  thin  and  easily 
bruised,  which  makes  it  a  poor  market  berry,  but 
with  its  high  flavor  and  productiveness,  an  admirable 
one  for  home  use.  It  seems  to  be  as  easily  grown  as 
the  Wilson,  while  it  is  much  more  palatable.  The 
great  trouble  with  the  Wilson,  as  everybody  knows, 
is  its  rank  acidity.  When  it  first  comes,  it  is  difficult 
to  eat  it  without  making  faces.  It  is  crabbed  and 
acrimonious.  Like  some  persons,  the  Wilson  will 
not  ripen  and  sweeten  till  its  old  age.  Its  largest 
and  finest  crop,  if  allowed  to  remain  on  the  vines,  will 
soften  and  fail  unregenerated,  or  with  all  its  sins 
upon  it.  But  wait  till  toward  the  end  of  the  season, 
after  the  plant  gets  over  its  hurry  and  takes  time  to 
ripen  its  fruit.  The  berry  will  then  face  the  sun  for 
days,  and  if  the  weather  is  not  too  wet,  instead  of 
softening  will  turn  dark  and  grow  rich.  Out  of  its 
crabbedness  and  spitefulness  come  the  finest,  choicest 
flavors.  It  is  an  astonishing  berry.  It  lays  hold  of 
the  taste  in  a  way  that  the  aristocratic  berries,  like 
the  Jecunda  or  Triumph,  cannot  approximate  to. 
Its  quality  is  as  penetrating  as  that  of  ants  and  wasps, 
but  sweet.  It  is  indeed  a  wild  bee  turned  into  a 
berry,  with  the  sting  mollified  and  the  honey  dis- 
guised. A  quart  of  these  rare-ripes  I  venture  to  say 
coi*tairs  more  of  the  peculiar  virtue  and  excellence 
of  the  strawberry  kind  than  can  be  had  in  twice  the 
laine  quantity  of  any  other  cultivated  variety.  Take 


STRAWBERRIES.  69 

these  beiries  in  a  bowl  of  rich  milk  with  some  bread, 
»—  ah,  what  »a  dish,  —  too  good  to  set  before  a  king  ! 
I  suspect  this  was  the  food  of  Adam  in  Paradise, 
only  Adam  did  not  have  the  Wilson  strawberry  ;  he 
had  the  wild  strawberry  that  Eve  plucked  in  their 
hill-meadow  and  "  hulled  "  with  her  own  hands,  and 
that,  take  it  all  in  all,  even  surpasses  the  late  ripened 
Wilson. 

Adam  is  still  extant  in  the  taste  and  appetite  of 
most  country  boys ;  lives  there  a  country  boy  who 
does  not  like  wild  strawberries-and-milk,  —  yea,  pre- 
fers it  to  any  other  known  dish  ?  I  am  not  thinking 
of  a  dessert  of  strawberries-and-cream ;  this  the  city 
boy  may  have  too,  after  a  sort ;  but  bread-and-milk, 
with  the  addition  of  wild  strawberries,  is  peculiarly 
a  country  dish,  and  is  to  the  taste  what  a  wild  bird's 
song  is  to  the  ear.  When  I  was  a  lad,  and  went 
afield  with  my  hoe  or  with  the  cows,  during  the 
strawberry  season,  I  was  sure  to  return  at  meal-time 
with  a  lining  of  berries  in  the  top  of  my  straw  hat. 
They  were  my  daily  food,  and  I  could  taste  the  liquid 
and  gurgling  notes  of  the  bobolink  in  every  spoonful 
of  them ;  and  at  this  day,  to  make  a  dinner  or  sup- 
per off  a  bowl  of  milk  with  bread  and  strawberries, 
—  plenty  of  strawberries,  —  well,  is  as  near  to  being 
v  a  boy  again  as  I  ever  expect  to  come.  The  golden 
age  draws  sensibly  near.  Appetite  becomes  a  kind 
«>f  delicious  thirst,  —  a  gentle  and  subtle  craving  of 
all  parts  of  the  mouth  and  throat,  —  and  those  nerves 
of  taste  that  occupy,  as  it  were,  a  back  seat,  and  take 


70  STRAWBERRIES. 

little  cognizance  of  grosser  foods,  come  forth,  and  are 
played  upon  and  set  vibrating.  Indeed,  I  think,  if 
there  is  ever  rejoicing  throughout  one's  alimentary 
household,  —  if  ever  that  much-abused  servant,  the 
stomach,  says  Amen,  or  those  faithful  handmaidens, 
the  liver  and  spleen,  nudge  each  other  delightedly,  it 
must  be  when  one  on  a  torrid  summer  day  passes  by 
the  solid  and  carnal  dinner  for  this  simple  Arcadiai 
v  dish. 

The  wild  strawberry,  like  the  wild  apple,  is  spicy 
and  high-flavored,  but,  unlike  the  apple,  it  is  also 
mild  and  delicious.  It  has  the  true  rustic  sweetness 
and  piquancy.  What  it  lacks  in  size,  when  compared 
with  the  garden  berry,  it  makes  up  in  intensity.  It 
is  never  dropsical  or  overgrown,  but  firm-fleshed  and 
hardy.  Its  great  enemies  are  the  plow,  gypsum,  and 
the  horse-rake.  It  dislikes  a  limestone  soil,  but  seems 
to  prefer  the  detritus  of  the  stratified  rock.  Where 
the  sugar-maple  abounds,  I  have  always  found  plenty 
of  wild  strawberries.  We  have  two  kinds,  —  the  wood 
berry  and  the  field  berry.  The  former  is  as  wild  as 
a  partridge.  It  is  found  in  open  places  in  the  woods 
and  along  the  borders,  growing  beside  stumps  and 
rocks,  never  in  abundance,  but  very  sparsely.  It  is 
nmall,  cone-shaped,  dark  red,  shiny,  and  pimply.  It 
boks  woody,  and  tastes  so.  It  has  never  reached 
the  table,  nor  made  the  acquaintance  of  cream.  A 
quart  of  them,  at  a  fair  price  for  human  labor,  would 
be  worth  their  weight  in  silver,  at  least.  (Yet  a  care- 
tal  observer  writes  me  that  in  certain  sections  is 


STRAWBERRIES.  71 

the  western  part  of  New  York  they  are  very  plen- 
tiful.) 

Ovid  mentions  the  wood  strawberry,  which  would 
lead  one  to  infer  that  they  were  more  abundant  in  his 
time  and  country  than  in  ours. 

This  is,  perhaps,  the  same  as  the  Alpine  straw- 
berry, which  is  said  to  grow  in  the  mountains  of 
Greece,  and  thence  northward.  This  was  probably 
the  first  variety  cultivated,  though  our  native  species 
would  seem  as  unpromising  a  subject  for  the  garden 
as  club-moss  or  winter-greens. 

Of  the  field  strawberry  there  are  a  great  many 
varieties,  —  some  growing  in  meadows,  some  in  past- 
ures, and  some  upon  mountain-tops.  Some  are  round, 
and  stick  close  to  the  calyx  or  hull ;  some  are  long 
and  pointed,  with  long,  tapering  necks.  These  usu- 
ally grow  upon  tall  stems.  They  are,  indeed,  of  the 
slim,  linear  kind.  Your  corpulent  berry  keeps  close 
to  the  ground ;  its  stem  and  foot-stalk  are  short,  and 
neck  it  has  none.  Its  color  is  deeper  than  that  of  its 
tall  brother,  and  of  course  it  has  more  juice.  You 
are  more  apt  to  find  the  tall  varieties  upon  knolls  in 
^w,  wet  meadows,  and  again  upon  mountain-tops, 
growing  in  tussocks  of  wild  grass  about  the  open 
summits.  These  latter  ripen  in  July,  and  give  one 
his  last  taste  of  strawberries  for  the  season. 

But  the  favorite  haunt  of  the  wild  strawberry  is  an 
i,p-lying  meadow  that  has  been  exempt  from  the 
(>low  for  five  or  six  years,  and  that  has  little  timothy 
and  much  daisy.  When  you  go  a-berrying  turn  yonr 


72  STRAWBERRIES. 

steps  toward  the  milk-white  meadows.  The  slightly 
bitter  odor  of  the  daisies  is  very  agreeable  to  the 
smell,  and  affords  a  good  background  for  the  per- 
fume of  the  fruit.  The  strawberry  cannot  cope  with 
the  rank  and  deep-rooted  clover,  and  seldom  appears 
in  a  field  till  the  clover  has  had  its  day.  But  the 
daisy  with  its  slender  stalk  does  not  crowd  or  ob- 
struct the  plant,  while  its  broad  white  flower  is  like  a 
light  parasol  that  tempers  and  softens  the  too  strong 
sunlight.  Indeed,  daisies  and  strawberries  are  gen- 
erally associated.  Nature  fills  her  dish  with  the  ber- 
ries, then  covers  them  with  the  white  and  yellow  of 
milk  and  cream,  thus  suggesting  a  combination  we 
are  quick  to  follow.  Milk  alone,  after  it  loses  its 
animal  heat,  is  a  clod,  and  begets  torpidity  of  the 
brain ;  the  berries  lighten  it,  give  wings  to  it,  and 
one  is  fed  as  by  the  air  he  breathes  or  the  water  he 
drinks. 

Then  the  delight  of  "  picking "  the  wild  berries ) 
It  is  one  of  the  fragrant  memories  of  boyhood.  In- 
deed, for  boy  or  man  to  go  a-berrying  in  a  certain 
pastoral  country  I  know  of,  where  a  passer-by  along 
the  highway  is  often  regaled  by  a  breeze  loaded  with 
&  perfume  of  the  o'er-ripe  fruit,  is  to  get  nearer  to 
June  than  by  almost  any  course  I  know  of.  Your 
errand  is  so  private  and  confidential !  You  stoop 
/bw.  You  part  away  the  grass  and  the  daisies,  and 
would  lay  bare  the  inmost  secrets  of  the  meadow 
Everything  is  yet  tender  and  succulent ;  the  very  ail 
*s  bright  and  new ;  the  warm  breath  of  the  meadow 


STRAWBERRIES.  73 

comes  up  in  your  face ;  to  your  knees  you  are  in  a 
sea  of  daisies  and  clover ;  from  your  knees  up  you 
are  in  a  sea  of  solar  light  and  warmth.  Now  you  are 
prostrate  like  a  swimmer,  or  like  a  surf -bather  reach- 
ing for  pebbles  or  shells,  the  white  and  green  spray 
breaks  above  you ;  then  like  a  devotee  before  a 
shrine,  or  naming  his  beads,  your  rosary  strung  with 
luscious  berries ;  anon  you  are  a  grazing  Nebuchad- 
nezzar, or  an  artist  taking  an  inverted  view  of  the 
landscape. 

The  birds  are  alarmed  by  your  close  scrutiny  of 
their  domain.  They  hardly  know  whether  to  sing  or 
to  cry,  and  do  a  little  of  both.  The  bobolink  follows 
you  and  circles  above  and  in  advance  of  you,  and  is 
ready  to  give  you  a  triumphal  exit  from  the  field,  if 
you  will  only  depart. 

"  Ye  boys  that  gather  flowers  and  strawberries, 
Lo,  hid  within  the  grass,  an  adder  lies," 

Warton  makes  Virgil  sing;  and  Montaigne,  in  his 
Journey  to  Italy,  says,  "  The  children  very  often  are 
afraid,  on  account  of  the  snakes,  to  go  and  pick  the 
strawberries  that  grow  in  quantities  on  the  mountains 
and  among  the  bushes."  But  there  is  no  serpent 
here  —  at  worst,  only  a  bumble-bee's  or  yellow-jack- 
et's nest.  You  soon  find  out  the  spring  in  the  corner 
of  the  field  under  the  beechen  tree.  While  you  wipe 
your  brow  and  thank  the  Lord  for  spring  water,  you 
glance  at  the  initials  in  the  bark,  some  of  them  so  old 
that  they  seem  runic  and  legendary.  You  find  out, 
also,  how  gregarious  the  strawberry  is  —  that  the  dif 


74  STRAWBERRIES. 

ferent  varieties  exist  in  little  colonies  about  the  field. 
When  you  strike  the  outskirts  of  one  of  these  plan- 
tations, how  quickly  you  work  toward  the  centre  of 
it,  and  then  from  the  centre  out,  then  circumnavigate 
it,  and  follow  up  all  its  branchings  and  windings ! 

Then  the  delight  in  the  abstract  and  in  the  con- 
crete of  strolling  and  lounging  about  the  June  mead- 
ows ;  of  lying  in  pickle  for  half  a  day  or  more  in  this 
pastoral  sea,  laved  by  the  great  tide,  shone  upon  by 
the  virile  sun,  drenched  to  the  very  marrow  of  your 
being  with  the  warm  and  wooing  influences  of  the 
young  summer ! 

I  was  a  famous  berry-picker  when  a  boy.  It  was 
near  enough  to  hunting  and  fishing  to  enlist  me. 
Mother  would  always  send  me  in  preference  to  any  of 
the  rest  of  the  boys.  I  got  the  biggest  berries  and  the 
most  of  them.  There  was  something  of  the  excite- 
ment of  the  chase  in  the  occupation,  and  something  of 
the  charm  and  preciousness  of  game  about  the  tro- 
phies. The  pursuit  had  its  surprises,  its  expectancies, 
its  sudden  disclosures,  —  in  fact,  its  uncertainties.  I 
went  forth  adventurously.  I  could  wander  free  as  the 
wind.  Then  there  were  moments  of  inspiration,  for 
it  always  seemed  a  felicitous  stroke  to  light  upon  a 
particularly  fine  spot,  as  its  does  when  one  takes  an 
old  and  wary  trout.  You  discovered  the  game  where 
it  was  hidden.  Your  genius  prompted  you.  Another 
had  passed  that  way  and  had  missed  the  prize.  In 
deed,  the  successful  berry-picker,  like  Walton's  an 
gler,  is  born,  not  made.  It  is  only  another  kind  of 


STRAWBERRIES.  75 

angling.  In  the  same  field  one  boy  gets  big  berries 
and  plenty  oi  them ;  another  wanders  up  and  down, 
and  finds  only  a  few  little  ones.  He  cannot  see 
them ;  he  does  not  know  how  to  divine  them  where 
they  lurk  under  the  leaves  and  vines.  The  berry- 
grower  knows  that  in  the  cultivated  patch  his  pick- 
ers are  very  unequal,  the  baskets  of  one  boy  or  girl 
having  so  inferior  a  look  that  it  does  not  seem  possi- 
ble they  could  have  been  filled  from  the  same  vines 
with  certain  others.  But  neither  blunt  fingers  nor 
blunt  eyes  are  hard  to  find,  and  as  there  are  those 
who  can  see  nothing  clearly,  so  there  are  those  who 
can  touch  nothing  deftly  or  gently. 

The  cultivation  of  the  strawberry  is  thought  to  be 
comparatively  modern.  The  ancients  appear  to  have 
been  a  carnivorous  race ;  they  gorged  themselves 
with  meat,  while  the  modern  man  makes  larger  and 
larger  use  of  fruits  and  vegetables,  until  this  genera- 
tion is  doubtless  better  fed  than  any  that  has  pre- 
ceded it.  The  strawberry  and  the  apple,  and  such 
vegetables  as  celery,  ought  to  lengthen  human  life,  — 
at  least  to  correct  its  biliousness  and  make  it  more 
sweet  and  sanguine. 

The  first  impetus  to  strawberry  culture  seems  to 
Lave  been  given  by  the  introduction  of  our  field  berry 
'Frag aria  Virginiana)  into  England  in  the  seven- 
^eenth  century,  though  not  much  progress  was  made 
till  the  eighteenth.  This  variety  is  much  more  fra- 
grant and  aromatic  than  the  native  berry  of  Europe, 
Chough  less  so  in  that  climate  than  when  grown  here. 


76  STRAWBERRIES. 

Many  new  seedlings  sprang  from  it,  and  it  was  the 
prevailing  berry  in  English  and  French  gardens, 
says  Fuller,  until  the  South  American  species  Grand- 
iflora  was  introduced  and  supplanted  it.  This  berry 
is  naturally  much  larger  and  sweeter  and  better 
adapted  to  the  English  climate  than  our  Virginiana. 
Hence  the  English  strawberries  of  to-day  surpass 
ours  in  these  respects,  but  are  wanting  in  that  aro- 
matic pungency  that  characterizes  most  of  our  ber- 
ries. 

The  Jecunda,  Triumph,  Victoria,  etc.,  are  foreign 
varieties  of  the  Grandiflora  species ;  while  the  Hovey, 
the  Boston  Pine,  the  Downer,  etc.,  are  natives  of 
this  country. 

The  strawberry,  in  the  main,  repeats  the  form  of 
the  human  heart,  and  perhaps  of  all  the  small  fruits 
known  to  man  none  other  is  so  deeply  and  fondly 
cherished,  or  hailed  with  such  universal  d.elight,  aa 
this  lowly  but  youth-renewing  berry. 


IS  IT  GOING  TO  RAINt 


IS  IT  GOING  TO  RAIN? 

1  SUSPECT  that,  like  most  countrymen,  I  was  born 
with  a  chronic  anxiety  about  the  weather.  Is  it  go- 
ing to  rain  or  snow,  be  hot  or  cold,  wet  or  dry  ?  — 
are  inquiries  upon  which  I  would  fain  get  the  views 
of  every  man  I  meet,  and  I  find  that  most  men  are 
fired  with  the  same  desire  to  get  my  views  upon  the 
same  set  of  subjects.  To  a  countryman  the  weather 
means  something,  —  to  a  farmer  especially.  The 
farmer  has  sowed  and  planted  and  reaped  and  vended 
nothing  but  weather  all  his  life.  The  weather  must 
lift  the  mortgage  on  his  farm,  and  pay  his  taxes,  ?nd 
feed  and  clothe  his  family.  Of  what  use  is  his  labor 
unless  seconded  by  the  weather?  Hence  there  is 
speculation  in  his  eye  whenever  he  looks  at  the 
clouds,  or  the  moon,  or  the  sunset,  or  the  stars ;  for 
even  the  milky  way,  in  his  view,  may  point  the  ii- 
rection  of  the  wind  to-morrow,  and  hence  is  closely 
related  to  the  price  of  butter.  He  may  not  take  the 
sage's  advice  to  "  hitch  his  wagon  to  a  star,"  but  he 
pins  his  hopes  to  the  moon  and  plants  and  sows  by 
ts  phases. 


80  IS  IT   GOING   TO   RAIN 

Then  the  weather  is  that  phase  of  Nature  in  which 
she  appears  not  the  immutable  fate  we  are  so  wont  to 
regard  her,  but  on  the  contrary  something  quite 
human  and  changeable,  not  to  say  womanish,  —  a 
creature  of  moods,  of  caprices,  of  cross  purposes ; 
gloomy  and  downcast  to-day,  and  all  light  and  joy 
to-morrow;  caressing  and  tender  one  moment,  and 
severe  and  frigid  the  next ;  one  day  iron,  the  next 
day  vapor ;  inconsistent,  inconstant,  incalculable,  full 
of  genius,  full  of  folly,  full  of  extremes,  to  be  read 
and  understood,  not  by  rule,  but  by  subtle  signs  and  - 
indirections,  by  a  look,  a  glance,  a  presence,  as  we 
read  and  understand  a  man  or  a  woman.  Some  days 
are  like  a  rare  poetic  mood.  There  is  a  felicity  and 
an  exhilaration  about  them  from  morning  till  night. 
They  are  positive  and  fill  one  with  celestial  fire. 
Other  days  are  negative  and  drain  one  of  his  electric- 
ity. 

Sometimes  the  elements  show  a  marked  genius  for 
fair  weather,  as  in  the  fall  and  early  winter  of  1877, 
when  October,  grown  only  a  little  stern,  lasted  till 
January.  Every  shuffle  of  the  cards  brought  these 
mild,  brilliant  days  uppermost.  There  was  not  enough 
frost  to  stop  the  plow,  save  once  perhaps,  till  the  new 
year  set  in.  Occasionally  a  fruit-tree  put  out  a  blos- 
som and  developed  young  fruit.  The  warring  of  the 
elements  was  chiefly  done  on  the  other  side  of  the 
globe,  where  it  formed  an  accompaniment  to  the  hu- 
man war  raging  there.  In  our  usually  merciless  skies 
was  written  only  peace  and  good-will  to  men,  foi 
months. 


IS   IT   GOING   TO   RAIN?  81 

What  a  creature  of  habit,  too,  Nature  is  as  she  ap- 
pears in  the*  weather  !  If  she  miscarry  once  she  will 
twice  and  thrice,  and  a  dozen  times.  In  a  wet  time 
it  rains  to-day  because  it  rained  yesterday,  and  will 
rain  to-morrow  because  it  rained  to-day.  Are  the 
crops  in  any  part  of  the  country  drowning  ?  They 
shall  continue  to  drown.  Are  they  burning  up  ? 
They  shall  continue  to  burn.  The  elements  get  in 
a  rut  and  can't  get  out  without  a  shock.  I  know  a 
farmer  who,  in  a  dry  time,  when  the  clouds  gather 
and  look  threatening,  gets  out  his  watering-pot  at 
once,  because,  he  says,  "  it  won't  rain,  and  't  is  an  ex- 
cellent time  to  apply  the  water."  Of  course,  there 
comes  a  time  when  the  farmer  is  wrong,  but  he  is 
right  four  times  out  of  five. 

But  I  am  not  going  to  abuse  the  weather  ;  rather 
to  praise  it,  and  make  some  amends  for  the  many 
ill-natured  tilings  I  have  said  within  hearing  of  the 
clouds,  when  I  have  been  caught  in  the  rain  or  been 
parched  and  withered  by  the  drought. 

When  Mr.  Fields's  "  Village  Dogmatist "  was 
asked  what  caused  the  rain,  or  the  fog,  —  he  leaned 
upon  his  cane  and  answered  with  an  air  of  profound 
wisdom,  that  "  when  the  atmosphere  and  hemi- 
sphere come  together  it  causes  the  earth  to  sweat, 
and  thereby  produces  the  rain,"  —  or  the  fog,  as  the 
case  may  be.  The  explanation  is  a  little  vague,  as  his 
biographer  suggests,  but  it  is  picturesque,  and  there 
can  be  little  doubt  that  two  somethings  do  come  in 
contact  that  produce  a  sweating  when  it  rains  or  is 
6 


82  IS  IT   GOING  TO  RAIN? 

foggy.  More  than  that,  the  philosophy  is  simple 
and  comprehensive,  which  Goethe  said  was  the  main 
matter  in  such  things.  Goethe's  explanation  is  still 
more  picturesque,  but  I  doubt  if  it  is  a  bit  better  phi- 
losophy. "  I  compare  the  earth  and  her  atmosphere," 
he  said  to  Eckermann,  "  to  a  great  living  being  per- 
petually inhaling  and  exhaling.  If  she  inhale  she 
draws  the  atmosphere  to  her,  so  that  coming  near  her 
surface  it  is  condensed  to  clouds  and  rain.  This  state 
I  call  water-affirmative."  The  opposite  state,  when 
the  earth  exhales  and  sends  the  watery  vapors  upward 
BO  that  they  are  dissipated  through  the  whole  space  of 
the  higher  atmosphere,  he  called  "  water-negative." 

This  is  gQ^d-literature,  and  worthy  the  great  poet ; 
the  science  of  it  I  would  not  be  so  willing  to  vouch 
for. 

The  poets,  more  perhaps  than  the  scientists,  have 
illustrated  and  held  by  the  great  law  of  alternation, 
of  ebb  and  flow,  of  turn  and  return,  in  nature.  An 
equilibrium,  or  what  is  the  same  thing,  a  straight 
line,  nature  abhors  more  than  she  dose  a  vacuum.  If 
the  moisture  of  the  air  were  uniform,  or  the  heat 
uniform,  that  is,  in  equilibria,  how  could  it  rain? 
what  would  turn  the  scale?  But  these  things  are 
heaped  up,  are  in  waves.  There  is  always  a  prepon- 
derance one  way  or  the  other ;  always  "  a  steep  in- 
equality." Down  this  incline  the  rain  comes,  and  up 
the  other  side  it  goes.  The  high  barometer  travels 
like  the  crest  of  a  sea,  and  the  low  barometer  like 
the  trough.  When  the  scale  kicks  the  beam  in  one 


IS  IT   GOING   TO  HMNtALlF  83 

^^^ssssssss^^^ 
place,  it  is  correspondingly  depressed  in  some  other. 

When  the  east  is  burning  up,  the  west  is  generally 
drowning  out.  The  weather,  we  say,  is  always  in 
extremes ;  it  never  rains  but  it  pours ;  but  this  is 
only  the  abuse  of  a  law  on  the  part  of  the  elements 
which  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  life  and. motion 
on  the  globe. 

The  rain  itself  comes  in  shorter  or  longer  waves 
—  now  fast,  now  slow  —  and  sometimes  in  regular 
throbs  or  pulse-beats.  The  fall  and  winter  rains  are, 
as  a  rule,  the  most  deliberate  and  general,  but  the 
spring  and  summer  rains  are  always  more  or  less  im- 
pulsive and  capricious.  One  may  see  the  rain  stalk- 
ing across  the  hills  or  coming  up  the  valley  in  single 
file  as  it  were.  Another  time  it  moves  in  vast  masses 
or  solid  columns,  with  broad  open  spaces  between. 
I  have  seen  a  spring  snow-storm  lasting  nearly  all 
day  that  swept  down  in  rapid  intermittent  sheets  or 
gusts.  The  waves  or  pulsations  of  the  storm  were 
nearly  vertical  and  were  very  marked. 

But  the  great  fact  about  the  rain  is  that  it  is  the 
most  beneficent  of  all  the  operations  of  nature ;  more 
immediately  than  sunlight  even,  it  means  life  and 
growth.  Moisture  is  the  Eve  of  the  physical  world, 
the  soft  teeming  principle  given  to  wife  to  Adam  or 
heat,  and  the  mother  of  all  that  lives.  '  Sunshine 
abounds  everywhere,  but  only  where  the  rain  or  dew 
follows  is  there  life.  The  earth  had  the  sun  long 
before  it  had  the  humid  cloud,  and  will  doubtless 
continue  to  have  it  after  the  last  drop  of  moisture 


84  IS   IT   GOING   TO   RAIN? 

has  perished  or  been  dissipated.  The  moon  has  sui> 
shine  enough,  but  no  rain  ;  hence  it  is  a  dead  world 
—  a  lifeless  cinder.  It  is  doubtless  true  that  certain 
of  the  planets,  as  Saturn  and  Jupiter,  have  not  yet 
reached  the  condition  of  the  cooling  and  ameliorat- 
ing rains,  while  in  Mars  vapor  appears  to  be  precipi 
tated  only  in  the  form  of  snow  ;  he  is  probably  past 
the  period  of  the  summer  shower.  There  are  clouds 
and  vapors  in  the  sun  itself,  —  clouds  of  flaming  hy- 
drogen and  metallic  vapors,  and  a  rain  every  drop 
of  which  is  a  burning  or  molten  meteor.  Our  earth 
itself  has  doubtless  passed  through  the  period  of  the 
fiery  and  consuming  rains.  Mr.  Proctor  thinks  there 
may  have  been  a  time  when  its  showers  were  down- 
pourings  of  "  muriatic,  nitric,  and  sulphuric  acid,  not 
only  intensely  hot,  but  fiercely  burning  through  their 
chemical  activity."  Think  of  a  dew  that  would  blis- 
ter and  destroy  like  the  oil  of  vitriol !  but  that  period 
is  far  behind  us  now.  "When  this  fearful  fever  was 
past  and  the  earth  began  to  "  sweat ; "  when  these 
soft,  delicious  drops  began  to  come  down,  or  this  im- 
palpable rain  of  the  cloudless  nights  to  fall,  the  pe- 
."iod  of  organic  life  was  inaugurated.  Then  there 
was  hope  and  a  promise  of  the  future.  The  first 
rain  was  the  turning-point,  the  spell  was  broken,  re- 
lief was  at  hand.  Then  the  blazing  furies  of  the  fore 

o 

world  began  to  give  place  to  the  gentler  divinities  of 
later  times. 

The  first  water,  —  how  much  it  means!      Seven 
tenths  of  man  himself  is  water.     Seven-tenths  of  the 


IS  IT  GOING  TO  RAIN?  85 

human  race  rained  down  but  yesterday  !  It  is  much 
more  probable  that  Caesar  will  flow  out  of  a  bung-hole 
than  that  any  part  of  his  remains  will  ever  stop  one. 
Our  life  is  indeed  a  vapor,  a  breath,  a  little  moisture 
condensed  upon  the  pane.  We  carry  ourselves  as  in 
a  phial.  Cleave  the  flesh,  and  how  quickly  we  spill 
out!  Man  begins  as  a  fish,  and  he  swims  in  a  sea 
of  vital  fluids  as  long  as  his  life  lasts.  His  first  food 
is  milk ;  so  is  his  last  and  all  between.  He  can  taste 
and  assimilate  and  absorb  nothing  but  liquids.  The 
same  is  true  throughout  all  organic  nature.  'T  is 
water-power  that  makes  every  wheel  move.  Without 
this  great  solvent,  there  is  no  life.  I  admire  im- 
mensely this  line  of  Walt  Whitman  :  — 

"The  slumbering  and  liquid  trees." 

The  tree  and  its  fruit  are  like  a  sponge  which  the 
rains  have  filled.  Through  them  and  through  all 
living  bodies  there  goes  on  the  commerce  of  vital 
growth,  tiny  vessels,  fleets  and  succession  of  fleets, 
laden  with  material  bound  for  distant  shores,  to  build 
up,  and  repair,  and  restore  the  waste  of  the  physical 
frame. 

Then  the  rain  means  relaxation ;  the  tension  in 
Nature  and  in  all  her  creatures  is  lessened.  The 
trees  drop  their  leaves,  or  let  go  their  ripened  fruit. 
The  tree  itself  will  fall  in  a  still,  damp  day,  when 
but  yesterday  it  withstood  a  gale  of  wind.  A  moist 
south  wind  penetrates  even  the  mind  and  makes  its 
grasp  less  tenacious.  It  ought  to  take  less  to  kill  a 
man  on  a  rainy  day  than  on  a  clear.  The  direct  sup 


86  IS   IT   GOING   TO   RAIN? 

port  of  the  sun  is  withdrawn ;  life  is  under  a  cloud ; 
a  masculine  inood  gives  place  to  something  like  a 
feminine.  In  this  sense,  rain  is  the  grief,  the  weep- 
ing of  Nature,  the  relief  of  a  burdened  or  agonized 
heart.  But  tears  from  Nature's  eyelids  are  always 
remedial  and  prepare  the  way  for  brighter,  purer 
skies. 

I  think  rain  is  as  necessary  to  the  mind  as  to  vege- 
tation. Who  does  not  suffer  in  his  spirit  in  a  drought 
and  feel  restless  and  unsatisfied  ?  My  very  thoughts 
become  thirsty  and  crave  the  moisture.  It  is.  hard 
work  to  be  generous,  or  neighborly,  or  patriotic  in  a 
dry  time,  and  as  for  growing  in  any  of  the  finer 
graces  or  virtues,  who  can  do  it  ?  One's  very  man- 
hood shrinks,  and  if  he  is  ever  capable  of  a  mean  act 
or  of  narrow  views,  it  is  then. 

Oh,  the  terrible  drought,  when  the  sky  turns  to 
brass ;  when  the  clouds  are  like  withered  leaves ; 
when  the  sun  sucks  the  earth's  blood  like  a  vampire ; 
when  rivers  shrink,  streams  fail,  springs  perish ;  when 
the  grass  whitens  and  crackles  under  your  feet; 
when  the  turf  turns  to  dust ;  when  the  fields  are  like 
tinder ;  when  the  air  is  the  breath  of  an  oven ;  when 
even  the  merciful  dews  are  withheld,  and  the  morn- 
ing is  no  fresher  than  the  evening ;  when  the  friendly 
road  is  a  desert  and  the  green  woods  like  a  sick- 
chamber  ;  when  the  sky  becomes  tarnished  and 
opaque  with  dust  and  smoke ;  when  the  shingles  on 
the  houses  curl  up,  the  clapboards  warp,  the  paiut 
blisters,  the  joints  open;  when  the  cattle  rove  dis* 


IS  IT  GOING  TO  RAIN?  87 

cousolate  and  the  hive-bee  comes  home  empty ;  when 
the  earth  gapes  and  all  nature  looks  widowed,  and 
deserted,  and  heart-broken,  —  in  such  a  time,  what 
thing  that  has  life  does  not  sympathize  and  suffer 
with  the  general  distress  ? 

The  .drought  of  the  summer  and  early  fall  of  1876 
w  as  one  of  those  severe  stresses  of  weather  that  make 
the  oddest  inhabitant  search  his  memory  for  a  par- 
allel. For  nearly  three  months  there  was  no  rain  to 
wet  the  ground.  Large  forest-trees  withered  and  cast 
their  leaves.  In  spots,  the  mountains  looked  as  if 
they  had  been  scorched  by  fire.  The  salt  sea-water 
came  up  the  Hudson  ninety  miles,  when  ordinarily 
it  scarcely  comes  forty.  Toward  the  last,  the  capacity 
of  the  atmosphere  to  absorb  and  dissipate  the  smoke 
was  exhausted,  and  innumerable  fires  in  forests  and 
peat-swamps  made  the  days  and  the  weeks  —  not 
blue,  but  a  dirty  yellowish-white.  There  was  not 
enough  moisture  in  the  air  to  take  the  sting  out  of 
the  smoke,  and  it  smarted  the  nose.  The  sun  was 
red  and  dim  even  at  midday,  and  at  his  rising  and 
setting  he  was  as  harmless  to  the  eye  as  a  crimson 
shield  or  a  painted  moon.  The  meteorological  con- 
litions  seemed  the  farthest  possible  remove  from 
hose  that  produce  rain,  or  even  dew.  Every  sign 
wras  negatived.  Some  malevolent  spirit  seemed  abroad 
in  the  air,  that  rendered  abortive  every  effort  of  the 
gentler  divinities  to  send  succor.  The  clouds  would 
gather  back  in  the  mountains,  the  thunder  would 
growl,  the  tall  masses  would  rise  up  and  advance 


88  IS  IT   GOING   TO  RAIN? 

threateningly,  then  suddenly  cower,  their  strength 
and  purpose  ooze  away  ;  they  flattened  out ;  the  hot, 
parched  breath  of  the  earth  smote  them ;  the  dark, 
heavy  masses  were  re-resolved  into  thin  vapor  and 
the  sky  came  through  where  but  a  few  moments  be- 
fore there  had  appeared  to  be  deep  behind  deep  of 
water-logged  clouds.  Sometimes  a  cloud  would  pass 
by,  and  one  could  see  trailing  beneath  and  behind  it  a 
sheet  of  rain,  like  something  let  down  that  did  not 
quite  touch  the  earth,  the  hot  air  vaporizing  the 
drops  before  they  reached  the  ground. 

Two  or  three  times  the  wind  got  in  the  south,  and 
those  low,  dun-colored  clouds  that  are  nothing  but 
harmless  fog  came  hurrying  up  and  covered  the  sky, 
and  city  folk  and  women  folk  said  the  rain  was  at 
last  near.  But  the  wise  ones  knew  better.  The 
clouds  had  no  backing,  the  clear  sky  was  just  behind 
them ;  they  were  only  the  night-cap  of  the  south 
wind  which  the  sun  burnt  up  before  ten  o'clock. 

Every  storm  has  a  foundation  that  is  deeply  and 
surely  laid,  and  those  shallow  surface  clouds  that 
have  no  root  in  the  depths  of  the  sky  deceive  none 
but  the  unwary. 

At  other  times,  when  the  clouds  were  not  re- 
absorbed  by  the  sky,  and  the  rain  seemed  imminent, 
they  would  suddenly  curdle,  and  when  the  clouds 
curdle  the  clerk  of  the  weather  has  a  sour  stomach 
and  3  ou  need  expect  no  good  turn  from  him.  Time 
and  ag<iin  I  saw  them  do  that,  saw  their  continuity 
broken  up,  saw  them  separate  into  small  masses  —  U 


IS  IT   GOING   TO   RAIN?  89 

fact  saw  a  process  of  disintegration  and  disorganiza- 
tion going  en,  and  my  hope  of  rain  was  over  for  thai 
day.  Vast  spaces  would  be  affected  suddenly  ;  it  was 
like  a  stroke  of  paralysis  ;  motion  was  retarded,  the 
biseze  died  down,  the  thunder  ceased,  and  the  storm 
was  blighted  on  the  very  threshold  of  success. 

I  suppose  there  is  some  compensation  in  a  drought ; 
Nature  doubtless  profits  by  it  in  some  way.  It  is  a 
good  time  to  thin  out  her  garden  and  give  the  law  of 
the  survival  of  the  fittest  a  chance  to  come  into  play. 
How  the  big  trees  and  big  plants  do  rob  the  little 
ones !  there  is  not  drink  enough  to  go  around  and 
the  strongest  will  have  what  there  is.  It  is  a  rest  to 

o 

vegetation,  too,  a  kind  of  torrid  winter  that  is  followed 
by  a  fresh  awakening.  Every  tree  and  plant  learns 
a  lesson  from  it,  learns  to  shoot  its  roots  down  deep 
into  the  perennial  supplies  of  moisture  and  life. 

But  when  the  rain  does  come,  the  warm,  sun- 
distilled  rain ;  the  far-traveling,  vapor-born  rain ; 
the  impartial,  undiscriminating,  unstinted  rain  ;  equa- 
ble, bounteous,  myriad-eyed,  searching  out  every 
t>lant  and  every  spear  of  grass,  finding  every  hidden 
\Jiing  that  needs  water,  falling  upon  the  just  and 
v.pon  the  unjust,  sponging  off  every  leaf  of  every 
tree  in  the  forest  and  every  growth  in  the  fields ; 
music  to  the  ear,  a  perfume  te  the  smell,  an  enchant- 
ment to  the  eye ;  healing  the  earth,  cleansing  the  air, 
renewing  the  fountains ;  honey  to  the  bee,  manna  to 
the  herds,  and  life  to  all  creatures  —  what  spectacle 
40  £Ts  the  heart  ?  "  Rain,  rain,  0  dear  Zeus,  down 


90  IS  IT   GOING   TO  RAIN? 

on  the  plowed  fields  of  the  Athenians,  and  on  the 
plains." 

There  is  a  fine  sibilant  chorus  audible  in  the  sod 
and  in  the  dust  of  the  road  and  in  the  porous  plowed 
fields.  Every  grain  of  soil  and  every  root  and  root- 
let purrs  in  satisfaction.  Because,  something  more 
than  water  comes  down  when  it  rains  ;  you  cannot 
produce  this  effect  by  simple  water  ;  the  good-will  of 
the  elements,  the  consent  and  approbation  of  all  the 
skyey  influences,  come  down  ;  the  harmony,  the  ad- 
justment, the  perfect  understanding  of  the  soil  be- 
neath and  the  air  that  swims  above  are  implied  in 
the  marvelous  benefaction  of  the  rain.  The  earth  is 
ready  ;  the  moist  winds  have  wooed  it  and  prepared 
it,  the  electrical  conditions  are  as  they  should  be, 
and  there  are  love  and  passion  in  the  surrender  of 
the  summer  clouds.  How  the  drops  are  absorbed 
into  the  ground !  You  cannot,  I  say,  succeed  like  this 
with  your  hose  or  sprinkling  pot.  There  is  no  ardor 
or  electricity  in  the  drops,  no  ammonia,  or  ozone,  or 
other  nameless  properties  borrowed  from  the  air. 

Then  one  has  not  the  gentleness  and  patience  of 
Nature  ;  we  puddle  the  ground  in  our  hurry,  we  seal 
it  up  and  exclude  the  air  and  the  plants  are  worse  off 
than  before.  "When  the  sky  is  overcast  and  it  is  get- 
ling  ready  to  rain,  the  moisture  rises  in  the  ground, 
the  earth  opens  her  pores  and  seconds  the  desire  of 
the  clouds. 

Indeed,  I  have  found  there  is  but  little  virtue  in  a 
sprinkling  pot  after  the  drought  has  reached  a  certaiB 


IS  IT   GOING  TO  RAIN?  91 

pitch.  The  soil  will  not  absorb  the  water.  'Tia 
like  throwing  it  on  a  hot  stove.  I  once  concentrated 
my  efforts  upon  a  single  hill  of  corn  and  deluged  it 
with  water  night  and  morning  for  several  days,  yet 
its  leaves  curled  up  and  the  ears  failed  the  same  as 
the  rest.  Something  may  be  done,  without  doubt,  if 
one  begins  in  time,  but  the  relief  seems  strangely  in- 
adequate to  the  means  often  used.  In  rainless  coun- 
tries good  crops  are  produced  by  irrigation,  but  here 
man  can  imitate  in  a  measure  the  patience  and  bounty 
of  Nature,  and  with  night  to  aid  him  can  make  his 
thirsty  fields  drink,  or  rather  can  pour  the  water 
down  their  throats. 

I  have  said  the  rain  is  as  necessary  to  man  as  to 
vegetation.  You  cannot  have  a  rank,  sappy  race  like 
the  English  or  German  without  plenty  of  moisture 
in  the  air  and  in  the  soil.  Good  viscera  and  an 
abundance  of  blood  are  closely  related  to  meteoro- 
logical conditions  ;  unction  of  character,  and  a  flow 
of  animal  Spirits,  too,  and  I  suspect  that  much  of  the 
dry  and  rarefied  humor  of  New  England,  as  well  as 
the  thin  and  sharp  physiognomies,  are  climatic  re- 
sults. We  have  rain  enough,  but  not  equability  of 
temperature  or  moisture, — no  steady  abundant  sup- 
ply of  humidity  in  the  air.  In  places  in  Great  Britain 
it  is  said  to  rain  on  an  average  three  days  out  of  four 
the  year  through,  yet  the  depth  of  rain-fall  is  no 
greater  than  in  this  country  where  it  rains  but  the 
one  day  out  of  four.  John  Bull  shows  those  three 
rainy  days  both  in  his  temper  and  in  his  bodily  habit ; 


92  IS  IT   GOING  TO  RAIN? 

he  is  ^better  for  them  in  many  ways,  and  perhaps  net 
quite  so  good  in  a  few  others  :  they  make  him  juicy 
and  vascular,  and  may  be  a  little  opaque  ;  but  we,  in 
this  country,  could  well  afford  a  few  of  his  negative 
qualities  for  the  sake  of  his  stomach  and  full-blooded- 
ness. 

We  have  such  faith  in  the  virtue  of  the  rain  and 
in  the  capacity  of  the  clouds  to  harbor  and  transport 
material  good  that  we  more  than  half  believe  the 
stories  of  the  strange  and  anomalous  things  that  have 
fallen  in  showers.  There  is  no  credible  report  that 
it  has  ever  yet  rained  pitchforks,  but  many  other 
curious  things  have  fallen.  Fish,  flesh,  and  fowl,  and 
substances  that  were  neither,  have  been  picked  up 
by  veracious  people  after  a  storm.  Manna,  blood, 
and  honey,  frogs,  newts,  and  fish-worms  are  among 
the  curious  things  the  clouds  are  supposed  to  yield. 
If  the  clouds  scooped  up  their  water  as  the  flying  ex- 
press train  does,  these  phenomena  could  be  easier 
explained.  I  myself  have  seen  curious  things.  Rid- 
ing along  the  road,  one  day,  on  the  heels  of  a  violent 
summer  tempest,  I  saw  the  ground  swarming  with 
minute  hopping  creatures.  I  got  out  and  captured 
my  hands  full.  They  proved  to  be  tree-toads,  many 
&f  them  no  larger  than  crickets,  and  none  of  them 
.arger  than  a  bumble-bee.  There  seemed  to  be  thou- 
nand£  of  them.  The  mark  of  the  tree-toad  was  the 
round,  flattened  ends  of  their  toes.  I  took  some  of 
them  home,  but  they  died  the  next  day.  Where  did 
they  come  from  ?  I  imagined  the  violent  wind  swept 


IS  IT  GOING  TO  RAIN?  93 

them  off  the  trees  in  the  woods  to  windward  of  the 
road.  But*this  is  only  a  guess  ;  may  be  they  crept 
out  of  the  ground,  or  from  under  the  wall  near  by, 
and  were  out  to  wet  their  jackets. 

I  have  never  yet  heard  of  a  frog  coming  down 
chimney  in  a  shower.  Pome  circumstantial  evidence 
may  be  pretty  conclusive,  Thoreau  says,  as  when 
you  find  a  trout  in  the  milk,  and  if  you  find  a  frog  or 
toad  behind  the  fire-board  immediately  after  a  shower, 
you  may  well  ask  him  to  explain  himself. 

When  I  was  a  boy  I  used  to  wonder  if  the  clouds 
were  hollow  and  carried  their  water  as  in  a  cask, 
because,  had  we  not  often  heard  of  clouds  bursting 
and  producing  havoc  and  ruin  beneath  them  ?  The 
hoops  gave  way,  perhaps,  or  the  head  was  pressed 
out.  Goethe  says  that  when  the  barometer  rises  the 
clouds  are  spun  off  from  the  top  downward  like  a 
distaff  of  flax;  but  this  is  more  truly  the  process 
when  it  rains.  When  fair  weather  is  in  the  ascend- 
%nt,  the  clouds  are  simply  re-absorbed  by  the  air; 
lut,  when  it  rains,  they  are  spun  off  into  something 
more  compact ;  't  is  like  the  threads  that  issue  from 
the  mass  of  flax  or  roll  of  wool,  only  here  there  are 
innumerable  threads  and  the  fingers  that  hold  them 
never  tire.  The  great  spinning-wheel,  too,  what  a 
humming  it  makes  at  times,  and  how  the  footsteps 
of  the  invisible  spinner  resound  through  the  cloud- 
pillared  chambers ! 

The  clouds  are  thus  literally  spun  up  into  water ; 
and  were  they  not  constantly  recruited  from  the  at- 


94  IS   IT   GOING   TO  EAIN? 

aiosphere  as  the  storm-centre  travels  along,  —  was 
new  wool  not  forthcoming  from  the  white  sheep  and 
the  black  sheep  that  the  winds  herd  at  every  point,  — 
all  rains  would  be  brief  and  local ;  the  storm  would 
quickly  exhaust  itself,  as  we  sometimes  see  a  thunder- 
cloud do  in  summer.  A  storm  will  originate  in  the 
far  West  or  Southwest  —  those  hatching-places  of 
all  our  storms  —  and  travel  across  the  continent,  and 
across  the  Atlantic  to  Europe,  pouring  down  incal- 
culable quantities  of  rain  as  it  progresses  and  recruit- 
ing as  it  wastes.  It  is  a  moving  vortex  into  which 
the  outlying  moisture  of  the  atmosphere  is  being 
constantly  drawn  and  precipitated.  It  is  not  properly 
the  storm  that  travels,  but  the  low  pressure,  the  storm 
impulse,  the  meteorological  magnet  that  makes  the 
storm  wherever  its  presence  may  be.  The  clouds 
are  not  watering-carts,  that  are  driven  all  the  way 
from  Arizona  or  Colorado  to  Europe,  but  growths, 
developments  that  spring  up  as  the  Storm-deity 
moves  his  wand  across  the  land.  In  advance  of  the 
storm,  you  may  often  see  the  clouds  grow ;  the  con- 
densation of  the  moisture  into  vapor  is  a  visible  proc- 
ess, slender,  spiculae-like  clouds  expand,  deepen,  and 
lengthen;  in  the  rear  of  the  low  pressure,  the  re- 
verse process,  or  the  wasting  of  the  clouds,  may  be 
witnessed.  In  summer,  the  recruiting  of  a  thunder- 
storm is  often  very  marked.  I  have  seen  the  clouds 
file  as  straight  across  the  sky  toward  a  growing  storm 
pr  thunder-head  in  the  horizon  as  soldiers  hastening 
to  the  point  of  attack  or  defense.  They  would  grow 


IS  IT   GOING   TO   RAIN?  95 

more  and  more  black  and  threatening  as  they  ad- 
vanced, and*  actually  seemed  to  be  driven  by  more 
urgent  winds  than  certain  other  clouds.  They  were, 
no  doubt,  more  in  the  line  of  the  storm  influence. 

All  our  general  storms  are  cyclonic  in  their  char- 
acter, that  is,  rotary  and  progressive.  Their  type 
may  be  seen  in  every  little  whirlpool  that  goes  down 
the  swollen  current  of  the  river,  and  in  our  hemi- 
sphere they  revolve  in  the  same  direction,  namely, 
from  right  to  left,  or  in  opposition  to  the  hands  of  a 
watch.  When  the  water  finds  an  outlet  through  the 
bottom  of  a  dam,  a  suction  or  whirling  vortex  is  de- 
veloped that  generally  goes  round  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. A  morning-glory  or  a  hop-vine  or  a  pole-bean 
winds  around  its  support  in  the  same  course,  and  can- 
not be  made  to  wind  in  any  other.  I  am  aware  there 
are  some  perverse  climbers  among  the  plants  that 
persist  in  going  around  the  pole  in  the  other  direc- 
tion. In  the  southern  hemisphere,  the  cyclone  re- 
volves in  the  other  direction,  or  from  left  to  right. 
How  do  they  revolve  at  the  equator,  then  ?  They  do 
not  revolve  at  all.  This  is  the  point  of  zero,  and  cy- 
clones are  nev^er  formed  nearer  than  the  third  par- 
allel of  latitude.  Whether  hop-vines  also  refuse  to 
wind  about  the  pole  there,  I  am  unable  to  say. 

All  our  cyclones  originate  in  the  far  Southwest 
and  travel  northeast.  Why  did  we  wait  for  the 
Weather  Bureau  to  tell  us  this  fact  ?  Do  not  all  the 
filmy,  hazy,  cirrus  and  cirro-stratus  clouds  first  ap- 
pear from  the  general  direction  of  the  sunset  ?  Who 


96  IS   IT   GOING   TO   RAIN? 

ever  saw  them  pushing  their  opaque  filaments  over 
the  sky  from  the  east  or  north?  Yet,  do  we  not 
have  "  northeasters  "  both  winter  and  summer  ?  True, 
but  the  storm  does  not  come  from  that  direction.  In 
such  a  case,  we  get  that  segment  of  the  cyclonic 
whirl.  A  northeaster  in  one  place  may  be  an  easter, 
a  norther,  or  a  souther  in  some  other  locality.  See 
through  those  drifting,  drenching  clouds  that  come 
hurrying  out  of  the  northeast,  and  there  are  the 
boss-clouds,  above  them,  the  great  captains  them- 
selves, moving  serenely  on  in  the  opposite  direction. 

Electricity  is  of  course  ar  important  agent  in 
storms.  It  is  the  great  organizer  and  ring-master. 
How  a  clap  of  thunder  will  shake  down  the  rain! 
It  gives  the  clouds  a  smart  rap  ;  it  jostles  the  vapor 
so  that  the  particles  fall  together  more  quickly  ;  it 
makes  the  drops  let  go  in  double  and  treble  ranks. 
Nature  likes  to  be  helped  in  that  way,  —  likes  to  have 
the  water  agitated  when  she  is  freezing  it  or  heating 
it,  and  the  clouds  smitten  when  she  is  compressing 
them  into  rain.  So  does  a  shock  of  surprise  quicken 
the  pulse  in  man,  and  in  the  crisis  of  action  help 
him  to  a  decision. 

What  a  spur  and  impulse  the  summer  shower  is ! 
How  its  coming  quickens  and  hurries  up  the  slow, 
jogging  country  life  !  The  traveler  along  the  dusty 
road  arouses  from  his  reverie  at  the  warning  rumble 
beliind  the  hills ;  the  children  hasten  from  the  field 
or  from  the  school ;  the  farmer  steps  lively  and  thinks 
Cast.  In  the  hay-field,  at  the  first  signal -gun  of  the 


IS   IT   GOING   TO   RAIN  ?  97 

element?,  w^/it  a  commotion  !  How  the  horse-rake 
rattles,  h'/v  jbhe  pitchforks  fly,  how  the  white  sleeves 
play  and  *  winkle  in  the  sun  or  against  the  dark  back- 
ground of  the  coming  storm !  One  man  does  the 
work  of  two  or  three.  It  is  a  race  with  the  elements, 
and  the  hay-makers  do  not  like  to  be  beaten.  The 
rain  that  is  life  to  the  grass  when  growing  is  poison 
to  it  after  it  becomes  cured  hay,  and  it  must  be  got 
under  shelter,  or  put  up  into  snug  cocks,  if  possible, 
before  the  storm  overtakes  it. 

The  rains  of  winter  are  cold  and  odorless.  One 
prefers  the  snow  which  warms  and  covers,  but  can 
there  be  anything  more  delicious  than  the  first  warm 
April  rain,  the  first  offering  of  the  softened  and 
pacified  clouds  of  spring  ?  The  weather  has  been  dry, 
perhaps,  for  two  or  three  weeks ;  we  have  had  a 
touch  of  the  dreaded  drought  thus  early ;  the  roads 
are  dusty,  the  streams  again  shrunken,  and  forest 
fires  send  up  columns  of  smoke  on  every  hand ;  the 
frost  has  all  been  out  of  the  ground  many  days ;  the 
snow  has  all  disappeared  from  the  mountains  ;  the  sun 
is  warm,  but  the  grass  does  not  grow,  nor  the  early 
seeds  come  up.  The  quickening  spirit  of  the  rain  is 
needed.  Presently  the  wind  gets  in  the  southwest, 
and,  late  in  the  day,  we  have  our  first  verna1  shower, 
gentle  and  leisurely,  but  every  drop  condensed  from 
warm  tropic  vapors  and  charged  with  the  very  es- 
sence of  spring.  Then  what  a  perfume  fills  the  air  ! 
One's  nostrils  are  not  half  large  enough  to  take  it 
n.  The  smoke,  washed  by  the  rain,  becomes  the 


98  IS   IT    GOING   TO   RAIN? 

breath  of  woods,  and  the  soil  and  the  newly  plowed 
fields  give  out  an  odor  that  dilates  the  sense.  How 
the  buds  of  the  trees  swell,  how  the  grass  greens, 
how  the  birds  rejoice !  Hear  the  rohlns  laugh  ! 
This  will  bring  out  the  worms  and  the  insects,  and 
start  the  foliage  of  the  trees.  A  summer  shower  has 
more  copiousness  and  power,  but  this  has  the  charm 
of  freshness  and  of  all  first  things. 

The  laws  of  storms,  up  to  a  certain  point,  have 
come  to  be  pretty  well  understood,  but  there  is  yet 
no  science  of  the  weather,  any  more  than  there  is  of 
human  nature.  There  is  about  as  much  room  for 
speculation  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other.  The 
causes  and  agencies  are  subtle  and  obscure,  and  we 
shall,  perhaps,  have  the  metaphysics  of  the  subject 
before  we  have  the  physics. 

But  as  there  are  persons  who  can  read  human 
nature  pretty  well,  so  there  are  those  who  can  read 
the  weather. 

It  is  a  masculine  subject,  and  quite  beyond  the 
jrovince  of  woman.  Ask  those  who  spend  their 
time  in  the  open  air  —  the  farmer,  the  sailor,  the 
soldier,  the  walker;  ask  the  birds,  the  beasts,  the 
tree-toads ;  they  know,  if  they  will  only  tell.  The 
farmer  diagnoses  the  weather  daily,  as  the  doctor  a 
patient ;  he  feels  the  pulse  of  the  wind,  he  knows 
when  the  clouds  have  a  scurfy  tongue,  or  when  the 
cuticle  of  the  day  is  feverish  and  dry  or  soft  and 
moist.  Certain  days  he  calls  "weather  breeders," 
and  they  are  usually  the  fairest  days  in  the  calenda* 


IS  IT   GOING   TO   RAIN?  99 

>—  all  sun  and  sky.  They  are  too  fair ;  they  are 
suspiciously*  so.  They  come  in  the  fall  and  spring, 
and  always  mean  mischief.  When  a  day  of  almost 
unnatural  brightness  and  clearness  in  either  of  these 
seasons  follows  immediately  after  a  storm,  it  is  a 
sure  indication  that  another  storm  follows  close  — 
follows  to-morrow.  In  keeping  with  this  fact  is  the 
rule  of  the  barometer,  that  if  the  mercury  suddenly 
rises  very  high,  the  fair  weather  will  not  last.  It  is 
a  high  peak  that  indicates  a  corresponding  depression 
close  at  hand.  I  observed  one  of  these  angelic  mis- 
chief-makers during  the  past  October.  The  second 
day  after  a  heavy  fall  of  rain  was  the  fairest  of  the 
fair  —  not  a  speck  or  film  in  all  the  round  of  the  sky. 
Where  have  all  the  clouds  and  vapors  gone  to  so 
suddenly  ?  was  my  mute  inquiry,  but  I  suspected 
they  were  plotting  together  somewhere  behind  the 
horizon.  The  sky  was  a  deep  ultramarine  blue  ;  the 
air  so  transparent  that  distant  objects  seemed  near, 
and  the  afternoon  shadows  were  sharp  and  clear.  At 
aight  the  stars  were  unusually  numerous  and  bright 
(a  sure  sign  of  an  approaching  storm).  The  sky  was 
laid  bare,  as  the  tidal  wave  empties  the  shore  of  its 
water  before  it  heaps  it  up  upon  it.  A  violent  storm 
of  wind  and  rain,  the  next  day,  followed  this  delusive 
brightness.  So  the  weather,  like  human  nature,  may 
be  suspiciously  transparent.  A  saintly  day  may  undo 
you.  A  few  clouds  do  not  mean  ~ain  ;  but  when  there 
are  absolutely  none,  when  even  the  haze  and  filmy 
rapors  are  suppressed  or  held  back,  then  beware. 


100  IS  IT   GOING   TO   RAIN? 

Then,  the  weather-wise  know  there  are  two  kinds 
of  clouds,  rain  clouds  and  wind  clouds,  and  that  the 
latter  are  always  the  most  portentous.  In  summer, 
they  are  black  as  night ;  they  look  as  if  they  would 
blot  out  the  very  earth.  They  raise  a  great  dust, 
and  set  things  flying  and  slamming  for  a  moment, 
and  that  is  all.  They  are  the  veritable  wind-bags  of 
JEolus.  There  is  something  in  the  look  of  rain 
clouds  that  is  unmistakable,  —  a  firm,  gray,  tightly 
woven  look  that  makes  you  remember  your  umbrella. 
Not  too  high,  nor  too  low,  not  black,  nor  blue,  but 
the  form  and  hue  of  wet,  unbleached  linen.  You  see 
the  river  water  in  them ;  they  are  heavy  laden,  and 
move  slow.  Sometimes  they  develop  what  are  called 
"  mares'  tails,"  —  small  cloud-forms  here  and  there 
against  a  heavy  background,  that  look  like  the  stroke 
of  a  brush,  or  the  streaming  tail  of  a  charger.  Some-: 
times  a  few  under-clouds  will  be  combed  and  groomed 
by  the  winds  or  other  meteoric  agencies  at  work,  as 
if  for  a  race.  I  have  seen  coming  storms  develop 
well-defined  vertebrae,  —  a  long  backbone  of  cloud, 
with  the  articulations  and  processes  clearly  marked. 
Any  of  these  forms,  changing,  growing,  denote  rain, 
because  they  show  unusual  agencies  at  work.  The 
storm  is  brewing  and  fermenting.  "  See  those  cow- 
licks," said  an  old  farmer,  pointing  to  certain  patches 
on  the  clouds  ;  "  they  mean  rain."  Another  time, 
he  said  the  clouds  were  "  making  bag,"  had  growing 
udders,  and  that  it  would  rain  before  night,  as  it  did. 
This  reminded  me  that  the  Orientals  speak  of  the 
clouds  as  cows  which  the  winds  herd  and  milk. 


iS  IT   GOING  TO  RAIN  r  101 

In  the  winter,  we  see  the  sun  wading  in  snow. 
The  mornifig  has  peihaps  been  clear,  but  in  the  after- 
noon a  bank  of  gray  filmy  or  cirrus  cloud  meets  him 
in  the  west,  and  he  sinks  deeper  and  deeper  into  it, 
till,  at  his  going  down,  his  muffled  beams  are  entirely 
hidden.  Then,  on  the  morrow,  not 

"  Announced  by  all  the  trumpets  of  the  sky," 
but  silent  as  night,  the  white  legions  are  here. 

The  old  signs  seldom  fail,  —  a  red  and  angry  sun- 
rise, or  flushed  clouds  at  evening.  Many  a  hope  of 
rain  have  I  seen  dashed  by  a  painted  sky  at  sunset. 
There  is  truth  in  the  old  couplet,  too  :  — 

"  If  it  rains  before  seven, 
It  will  clear  before  eleven." 

An  old  Indian  had  a  sign  for  winter :  "  If  the 
wind  blows  the  snow  off  the  trees,  the  next  storm 
will  be  snow ;  if  it  rains  off  the  next  storm  will  be 
rain." 

Morning  rains  are  usually  short-lived.  Better 
wait  till  ten  o'clock. 

When  the  clouds  are  chilled,  they  turn  blue  and 
rise  up. 

When  the  fog  leaves  the  mountains,  reaching  up- 
ward, as  if  afraid  of  being  left  behind,  the  fair 
weather  is  near. 

Shoddy  clouds  are  of  little  account,  and  soon  fall 
to  pieces.  Have  your  clouds  show  a  good  strong 
fibre,  and  have  them  lined,  —  not  with  silver,  but  with 
other  clouds  of  a  finer  texture,  —  and  have  them 
wadded.  It  wants  two  or  three  thicknesses  to  get 


102  IS  IT   GOING  TO  KAIN? 

tip  a  good  rain.  Especially,  unless  you  have  that 
cloud-mother,  that  dim,  filmy,  nebulous  mass  that  has 
its  root  in  the  higher  regions  of  the  air,  and  is  the 
source  and  backing  of  all  storms,  —  your  rain  will  be 
light  indeed. 

I  fear  my  readers'  jacket  is  not  thoroughly  soaked 
yet.  I  must  give  him  a  final  dash,  a  "  clear-up " 
shower. 

We  were  encamping  in  the  primitive  woods,  by  a 
little  trout-lake  which  the  mountain  carried  high  on 
his  hip,  like  a  soldier's  canteen.  There  were  wives 
in  the  party,  curious  to  know  what  the  lure  was  that 
annually  drew  their  husbands  to  the  woods.  That 
magical  writing  on  a  trout's  back  they  would  fain  de- 
cipher, little  heeding  the  warning  that  what  is  writ- 
ten here  is  not  given  to  woman  to  know. 

Our  only  tent  or  roof  was  the  sheltering  arms  of 
the  great  birches  and  maples.  What  was  sauce  for 
the  gander  should  be  sauce  for  the  goose  too,  so  the 
goose  insisted. 

A  luxurious  couch  of  boughs  upon  springing  poles 
was  prepared,  and  the  night  should  be  not  less  wel- 
come than  the  day,  which  had  indeed  been  idyllic. 
(A  trout  dinner  had  been  served  by  a  little  spring 
b^ook,  upon  an  improvised  table  covered  with  moss 
ai  d  decked  with  ferns,  with  strawberries  from  a  near 
clearing.) 

At  twilight,  there  was  an  ominous  rumble  behind 
Jie  mountains.  I  was  on  the  lake,  and  could  see 
what  was  brewing  there  in  the  west. 


IS  IT   GOING   TO  RAIN?  103 

\  As  darkness  came  on,  the  rambling  increased,  and 
I^e  mountains  and  the  woods  and  the  still  air  were 
such  good  conductors  of  sound  that  the  ear  was  viv- 
idly impressed.  One  seemed  to  feel  the  enormous 
convolutions  of  the  clouds  in  the  deep  and  jarring 
tones  of  the  thunder.  The  coming  of  night  in  the 
woods  is  alone  peculiarly  impressive,  and  it  is  doubly 
so  when  out  of  the  darkness  comes  such  a  voice  as 
this.  But  we  fed  the  fire  the  more  industriously, 
and  piled  the  logs  high,  and  kept  the  gathering  gloom 
at  bay  by  as  large  a  circle  of  light  as  we  could  com- 
mand. The  lake  was  a  pool  of  ink  and  as  still  as  if 
congealed ;  not  a  movement  or  a  sound,  save  now 
and  then  a  terrific  volley  from  the  cloud-batteries 
now  fast  approaching.  By  nine  o'clock  little  puffs 
of  wind  began  to  steal  through  the  woods  and  tease 
and  toy  with  our  fire.  Shortly  after,  an  enormous 
electric  bomb-shell  exploded  in  the  tree-tops  over 
our  heads,  and  the  ball  was  fairly  opened.  Then  fol- 
lowed three  hours,  with  only  two  brief  intermissions, 
of  as  lively  elemental  music  and  as  copious  an  out- 
pouring of  rain  as  it  was  ever  my  lot  to  witness.  j^Et 
was  a  regular  meteorological  carnival,  and  the^rev- 
elers  were  drunk  with  the  wild  sport.  The  apparent 
nearness  of  the  clouds  and  the  electric  explosion  was 
fcomething  remarkable.  Every  discharge  seemed  to 
be  in  the  branches  immediately  overhead  and  made  us 
involuntarily  cower,  as  if  the  next  moment  the  great 
imbs  of  the  trees,  or  the  trees  themselves,  would  come 
trashing  down.  The  mountain  upon  which  we  were 


104  IS   IT   GOING   TO   RAIN? 

encamped  appeared  to  be  the  focus  of  three  distinct 
but  converging  storms.  The  last  two  seemed  to  com* 
into  collision  immediately  over  our  camp-fire  and  if 
contend  for  the  right  of  way  until  the  heavens  wer* 
ready  to  fall  and  both  antagonists  were  literally 
spent.  We  stood  in  groups  about  the  struggling  fire 
and  when  the  cannonade  became  too  terrible  woulc 
withdraw  into  the  cover  of  the  darkness  as  if  to  be 
a  less  conspicuous  mark  for  the  bolts ;  or  did  we 
fear  the  fire,  with  its  currents,  might  attract  the  light- 
ning ?  At  any  rate,  some  other  spot  than  the  one 
where  we  happened  to  be  standing  seemed  desira- 
ble when  those  onsets  of  the  contending  elements 
were  the  most  furious.  Something  that  one  could 
not  catch  in  his  hat  was  liable  to  drop  almost  any- 
where any  minute.  The  alarm  and  consternation  of 
the  wives  communicated  itself  to  the  husbands,  and 
they  looked  solemn  and  concerned.  The  air  was 
filled  with  falling  water.  The  sound  upon  the  myriad 
leaves  and  branches  was  like  the  roar  of  a  cataract 
We  put  our  backs  up  against  the  great  trees  only  te 
catch  a  brook  on  our  shoulders  or  in  the  backs  of  oui 
i  tecks.  Still  the  storm  waxed.  The  fire  was  beaten 
down  lower  and  lower.  It  surrendered  one  post  aftei 
another,  like  a  besieged  city,  and  finally  made  only 
a  feeble  resistance  from  beneath  a  pile  of  charred 
logs  and  branches  in  the  centre.  Our  garments 
yielded  to  the  encroachments  of  the  rain  in  about  the 
$ame  manner.  I  believe  my  neck-tie  held  out  the 
•ongest  and  carried  a  few  dry  threads  safely  through, 


IS  IT  GOING  TO  RAIN  ?  105 

Oui  cunningly  devised  and  bedecked  table,  which  the 
housekeepers  had  so  doted  on  and  which  was  ready 
spread  for  breakfast,  was  washed  as  by  the  hose  of  a 
fire-engine,  —  only  the  bare  poles  remained,  —  and 
the  couch  of  springing  boughs  that  was  to  make  sleep 
jealous  and  o'erfond  became  a  bed  fit  only  for  am- 
phibians. Still  the  loosened  floods  came  down ;  still 
the  great  cloud  mortars  bellowed  and  exploded  their 
missiles  in  the  tree-tops  above  us.  But  all  nervous- 
ness finally  passed  away,  and  we  became  dogged  and 
resigned.  Our  minds  became  water-soaked ;  our 
thoughts  were  heavy  and  bedraggled.  We  were  past 
the  point  of  joking  at  one  another's  expense.  The 
witticisms  failed  to  kindle,  —  indeed,  failed  to  go, 
like  the  matches  in  our  pockets.  About  midnight 
the  rain  slackened,  and  by  one  o'clock  ceased  entirely. 
How  the  rest  of  the  night  was  passed  beneath  the 
dripping  trees  and  upon  the  saturated  ground,  I  have 
only  the  dimmest  remembrance.  All  is  watery  and 
opaque ;  the  fog  settles  down  and  obscures  the  scene. 
But  I  suspect  I  tried  the  "  wet  pack  "  without  being 
a  convert  to  hydropathy.  When  the  morning  dawned, 
the  wives  begged  to  be  taken  home,  convinced  that 
the  charms  of  camping- out  were  greatly  overrated. 
We  who  had  tasted  this  cup  before,  knew  they  had 
i^ead  at  least  a  part  of  the  legend  of  the  wary  trout 
Without  knowing  it. 

I 


SPECKLED  TKOUT. 


• 


SPECKLED  TROUT. 


THE  legend  of  the  wary  trout,  hinted  at  in  the  last 
sketch,  is  to  be  further  illustrated  in  this  and  some 
following  chapters.  We  shall  get  at  more  of  the 
meaning  of  those  dark  water-lines,  and  I  hope,  also, 
not  entirely  miss  the  significance  of  the  gold  and  sil- 
ver spots  and  the  glancing  iridescent  hues.  The 
trout  is  dark  and  obscure  above,  but  behind  this  foil 
there  are  wondrous  tints  that  reward  the  believing 
eye.  Those  who  seek  him  in  his  wild  remote  haunts 
are  quite  sure  to  get  the  full  force  of  the  sombre  and 
uninviting  aspects,  —  the  wet,  the  cold,  the  toil,  the 
broken  rest,  and  the  huge,  savage,  uncompromising 
nature,  etc.,  —  but  the  true  angler  sees  farther  than 
these,  and  is  never  thwarted  of  his  legitimate  reward 
by  them. 

I  have  been  a  seeker  of  trout  from  my  boyhood, 
and  on  all  the  expeditions  in  which  this  fish  has  been 
the  ostensible  purpose  I  have  brought  home  more 
game  than  my  creel  showed.  In  fact,  in  my  mature 
years  I  find  I  got  more  of  nature  into  me,  more  of 


110  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

the  woods,  the  wild,  nearer  to  bird  and  beast,  while 
threading  my  native  streams  for  trout,  than  in  almost 
any  other  way.  It  furnished  a  good  excuse  to  go 
forth :  it  pitched  one  in  the  right  key  :  it  sent  one 
through  the  fat  and  marrowy  places  of  field  and 
wood.  Then  the  fisherman  has  a  harmless  preoc- 
cupied look ;  he  is  a  kind  of  vagrant  that  nothing 
fears.  He  blends  himself  with  the  trees  and  the 
shadows.  All  his  approaches  are  gentle  and  indi- 
rect. He  times  himself  to  the  meandering  soliloquiz- 
ing stream;  its  impulse  bears  him  along.  At  the 
foot  of  the  water-fall  he  sits  sequestered  and  hidden 
in  its  volume  of  sound.  The  birds  know  he  has  no 
designs  upon  them,  and  the  animals  see  that  his  mind 
is  in  the  creek.  His  enthusiasm  anneals  him  and 
makes  him  pliable  to  the  scenes  and  influences  he 
moves  among. 

Then  what  acquaintance  he  makes  with  the  stream ! 
He  addresses  himself  to  it  as  a  lover  to  his  mistress : 
he  wooes  it  and  stays  with  it  till  he  knows  its  most 
hidden  secrets.  It  runs  through  his  thoughts  not  less 
than  through  its  banks  there ;  he  feels  the  fret  and 
thrust  of  every  bar  and  bowlder.  Where  it  deepens 
his  purpose  deepens ;  where  it  is  shallow  he  is  indif- 
ferent. He  knows  how  to  interpret  its  every  glance 
and  dimple  ;  its  beauty  haunts  him  for  days. 

I  am  sure  I  run  no  risk  of  over-praising  the 
charm  and  attractiveness  of  a  well-fed  trout  stream, 
every  drop  of  water  in  it  as  bright  and  pure  as  if  the 
nymphs  had  brought  it  all  the  way  from  its  source 


SPECKLED    TROUT.  Ill 

in  crystal  goblets,  and  as  cool  as  if  it  had  been 
hatched  beneath  a  glacier.  When  the  heated  and 
soiled  and  jaded  refugee  from  the  city  first  sees  one 
he  feels  as  if  he  would  like  to  turn  it  into  his  bosom 
and  let  it  flow  through  him  a  few  hours,  it  suggests 
Buch  healing  freshness  and  newness.  How  his  roily 
thoughts  would  run  clear :  how  the  sediment  would  go 
down  stream.  Could  he  ever  have  an  impure  or  an 
unwholesome  wish  afterward  ?  The  next  best  thing 
he  can  do  is  to  tramp  along  its  banks  and  surrender 
himself  to  its  influence.  If  he  reads  it  intently 
enough  he  will,  in  a  measure,  be  taking  it  into  his 
mind  and  heart,  and  experiencing  its  salutary  minis- 
trations. 

Trout  streams  coursed  through  every  valley  my 
boyhood  knew.  I  crossed  them,  and  was  often 
lured  and  detained  by  tl^m,  on  my  way  to  and  from 
school.  We  bathed  in  them  during  the  long  sum- 
mer noons  and  felt  for  the  trout  under  their  banks. 
A  holiday  was  a  holiday  indeed  that  brought  permis- 
sion to  go  fishing  over  on  Rose's  Brook,  or  up  Hard- 
scrabble  or  in  Meeker's  Hollow ;  all-day  trips,  from 
morning  till  night,  through  meadows  and  pastures 
and  beechen  woods  wherever  the  shy  limpid  stream 
led.  What  an  appetite  it  developed  !  a  hunger  that 
was  fierce  and  aboriginal,  and  that  the  wild  straw- 
berries we  plucked  as  we  crossed  the  hill  teased 
rather  than  allayed.  When  but  a  few  hours  could 
oe  had,  gained  perhaps  by  doing  some  piece  of  work 
the  farm  or  garden  in  half  the  allotted  time 


112  SPECKLED   TBOUT. 

the  little  creek  that  headed  in  the  paternal  domain 
was  handy ;  when  half  a  day  was  at  one's  disposal 
there  were  the  hemlocks,  less  than  a  mile  distant, 
with  their  loitering,  meditative,  log-impeded  stream 
and  their  dusky,  fragrant  depths.  Alert  and  wide 
eyed,  one  picked  his  way  along,  startled  now  and 
then  by  the  sudden  bursting  up  of  the  partridge,  or 
by  the  whistling  wings  of  the  "  dropping  snipe," 
pressing  through  the  brush  and  the  briers,  or  finding 
an  easy  passage  over  the  trunk  of  a  prostrate  tree, 
carefully  letting  his  hook  down  through  some  tangle 
into  a  still  pool,  or  standing  in  some  high  sombre 
avenue  and  watching  his  line  float  in  and  out  amid 
the  moss-covered  bowlders.  In  my  first  essayings  I 
used  to  go  to  the  edge  of  these  hemlocks,  seldom  dip- 
ping into  them  beyond  the  first  pool  where  the  stream 
swept  under  the  roots  of  two  large  trees.  From  this 
point  I  could  look  back  into  the  sunlit  fields  where 
the  cattle  were  grazing ;  beyond,  all  was  gloom  and 
mystery;  the  trout  were  black,  and  to  my  young 
imagination  the  silence  and  the  shadows  were  blacker. 
But  gradually  I  yielded  to  the  fascination  and  pene- 
trated the  woods  farther  and  farther  on  each  expedi- 
tion, till  the  heart  of  the  mystery  was  fairly  plucked 
out.  During  the  second  or  third  year  of  my  piscato- 
rial experience  I  went  through  them,  and  through  the 
pasture  and  meadow  beyond,  and  through  another 
strip  of  hemlocks,  to  where  the  little  stream  joined 
the  main  creek  of  the  valley. 
In  June,  when  my  trout  fever  ran  pretty  high,  and 


SPECKLED    TROUT.  113 

an  auspicious  day  arrived,  I  would  make  a  trip  to  a 
stream  a  couple  of  miles  distant,  that  came  down  out 
of  a  comparatively  new  settlement.  It  was  a  rapid 
mountain  brook  presenting  many  difficult  problems  to 
the  young  angler,  but  a  very  enticing  stream  for  all 
that,  with  its  two  saw-mill  dams,  its  pretty  cascades, 
its  high,  shelving  rocks  sheltering  the  mossy  nests  of 
the  phcebe  bird,  and  its  general  wild  and  forbidding 
aspects. 

But  a  meadow  brook  was  always  a  favorite.  The 
trout  like  meadows  ;  doubtless  their  food  is  more 
abundant  there,  and,  usually,  the  good  hiding-places 
are  more  numerous.  As  soon  as  you  strike  a  meadow 
the  character  of  the  creek  changes ;  it  goes  slower 
and  lies  deeper;  it  tarries  to  enjoy  the  high,  cool 
banks  and  to  half  hide  beneath  them;  it  loves  the 
willows,  or  rather,  the  willows  love  it  and  shelter  it 
from  the  sun ;  its  spring  runs  are  kept  cool  by  the 
overhanging  grass,  and  the  heavy  turf  that  face  its 
open  banks  is  not  cut  away  by  the  sharp  hoofs  of 
the  grazing  cattle.  Then  there  are  the  bobolinks  and 
starlings  and  meadow  larks,  always  interested  spec- 
tators of  the  angler ;  there  are  also  the  marsh  mar- 
igolds, the  buttercups,  or  the  spotted  lilies,  and  the 
good  angler  is  always  an  interested  spectator  of  them. 
In  fact,  the  patches  of  meadow  land  that  lie  in  the 
angler's  course  are  like  the  happy  experiences  in  his 
ow*v  life,  or  like  the  fine  passages  in  the  poem  he 
is  ».  eading ;  the  pasture  of tener  contains  the  shallow 
and  monotonous  places.  In  the  small  streams  tt« 
8 


114  SPECKLED   TKOUT. 

cattle  scare  the  fish,  and  soil  their  element  and  break 
down  their  retreats  under  the  banks.  Wood-land 
alternates  the  best  with  meadow :  the  creek  loves  to 
burrow  under  the  roots  of  a  great  tree,  to  scoop  out 
a  pool  after  leaping  over  the  prostrate  trunk  of  one, 
and  to  pause  at  the  foot  of  a  ledge  of  moss-covered 
rocks,  with  ice-cold  water  dripping  down.  How 
straight  the  current  goes  for  the  rock  ;  note  its  cor- 
rugated, muscular  appearance,  it  strikes  and  glances 
off,  but  accumulates,  deepens  with  well-defined  ed- 
dies above  and  to  one  side ;  on  the  edge  of  these  the 
trout  lurk  and  spring  upon  their  prey. 

The  angler  learns  that  it  is  generally  some  obsta  . 
cle  or  hindrance  that  makes  a  deep  place  in  the  creek, 
as  in  a  brave  life,  and  his  ideal  brook  is  one  that  lies 
in  deep,  well-defined  banks,  yet  makes  many  a  shift 
from  right  to  left,  meets  with  many  rebuffs  and  ad- 
ventures, hurled  back  upon  itself  by  rocks,  waylaid 
by  snags  and  trees,  tripped  up  by  precipices,  but 
sooner  jpr  later  reposing  under  meadow  banks,  deep- 
ening and  eddying  beneath  bridges,  or  prosperous 
and  strong  in  some  level  stretch  of  cultivated  land 
with  great  elms  shading  it  here  and  there. 

But  I  early  learned  that  from  almost  any  stream  in 
a  trout  country  the  true  angler  could  take  trout,  and 
that  the  great  secret  was  this,  that  whatever  bait  you 
used,  worm,  grasshopper,  grub,  or  fly,  there  was  one 

/thing  you  must  always  put  upon  your  hook,  namely, 
your  heart ;   when  you    bait  your  hook  with  your 
i,   heart  the  fish  always  bite ;   they  will  jump   clean 


SPECKLED   TROUT.  115 

from  the  water  after  it :  they  will  dispute  with  each 
other  over  it;, it  is  a  morsel  they  love  above  every- 
thing else.  With  such  bait  I  have  seen  the  born/ 
angler  (my  grandfather  was  one)  take  a  noble  string 
of  trout  from  the  most  unpromising  waters,  and  on 
the  most  unpromising  day.  He  used  his  hook  so 
coyly  and  tenderly,  he  approached  the  fish  with  such 
address  and  insinuation,  he  divined  the  exact  spot 
where  they  lay ;  if  they  were  not  eager  he  humored 
them  and  seemed  to  steal  by  them;  if  they  were 
playful  and  coquettish  he  would  suit  his  mood  to 
theirs ;  if  they  were  frank  and  sincere  he  met  them 
half  way  ;  he  was  so  patient  and  considerate,  so  en- 
tirely devoted  to  pleasing  the  critical  trout,  and  so 
successful  in  his  efforts  —  surely  his  heart  was  upon 
his  hook,  and  it  was  a  tender,  unctuous  heart,  too,  as 
that  of  every  angler  is.  How  nicely  he  would  meas- 
ure the  distance,  how  dexterously  he  would  avoid  an 
overhanging  limb  or  bush  and  drop  the  line  in  exactly 
the  right  spot ;  of  course  there  was  a  pulse  of  feel- 
ing and  sympathy  to  the  extremity  of  that  line.  If 
your  heart  is  a  stone,  however,  or  an  empty  husk, 
there  is  no  use  to  put  it  upon  your  hook ;  it  will  not 
tempt  the  fish ;  the  bait  must  be  quick  and  fresh. 
Indeed,  a  certain  quality  of  youth  is  indispensable  to 
the  successful  angler,  a  certain  unworldliness  and 
readiness  to  invest  yourself  in  an  enterprise  that 
don't  £ay  in  the  current  coin.  Not  only  is  the  an 
gler,  like  the  poet,  born  and  not  made,  as  Walton 
says,  but  there  is  a  deal  of  the  poet  in  him,  and  he 


116  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

is  to  be  judged  no  more  harshly ;  he  is  the  victim  of 
his  genius ;  those  wild  streams,  how  they  haunt  him ; 
he  will  play  truant  to  dull  care,  and  flee  to  them ; 
their  waters  impart  somewhat  of  their  own  perpetual 
youth  to  him.  My  grandfather  when  he  was  eighty 
years  old  would  take  down  his  pole  as  eagerly  as  any 
boy,  and  step  off  with  wonderful  elasticity  toward  the 
beloved  streams  ;  it  used  to  try  my  young  legs  a  good 
deal  to  follow  him,  especially  on  the  return  trip. 
And  no  poet  was  ever  more  innocent  of  worldly  suc- 
cess or  ambition.  For,  to  paraphrase  Tennyson,  — 

"  Lusty  trout  to  him  were  scrip  and  share, 
And  babbling  waters  more  than  cent  for  cent." 

He  laid  up  treasures,  but  they  were  not  in  this  world. 
In  fact,  though  the  kindest  of  husbands,  I  fear  he 
was  not  what  the  country  people  call  a-  "  good  pro- 
vider," except  in  providing  trout  in  their  season 
though  it  is  doubtful  if  there  was  always  fat  in  the 
house  to  fry  them  in.  But  he  could  tell  you  they 
were  worse  off  than  that  at  Valley  Forge,  and  that 
trout,  or  any  other  fish,  vere  good  roasted  in  the 
kshes  under  the  coals.  He  had  the  Walton  requisite 
of  loving  quietness  and  contemplation,  and  was  de- 
vout withal.  Indeed  in  many  ways  he  was  akin  to 
Ihose  Galilee  fishermen  who  were  called  toj>e  fishers 
of  men.  How  he  read  the  Book  and  pored  over  it, ' 
even  at  times  I  suspect  nodding  over  it,  and  laying 
it  down  only  to  take  up  his  rod,  over  which,  unless 
the  trout  were  very  dilatory  and  the  journey  verj 
fatiguing,  he  never  nodded. 


SPECKLED 


II. 

The  Delaware  is  one  of  our  minor  rivers,  but  it  is 
a  stream  beloved  of  the  trout.  Nearly  all  its  remote 
branches  head  in  mountain  springs,  and  its  collected 
waters,  even  when  warmed  by  the  summer  sun,  are  as 
sweet  and  wholesome  as  dew  swept  from  the  grass. 
The  Hudson  wins  from  it  two  streams  that  are  fath- 
ered by  the  mountains  from  whose  loins  most  of  iti 
beginnings  issue,  namely,  the  Rondout  and  the  Eso- 
pus.  These  swell  a  more  illustrious  current  than 
the  Delaware,  but  the  Rondout,  one  of  the  finest  trout 
streams  in  the  world,  makes  an  uncanny  alliance  be- 
fore it  reaches  its  destination,  namely  with  the  ma- 
larious Wallkill. 

In  the  same  nest  of  mountains  from  which  they 
start  are  born  the  Neversink  and  the  Beaverkill, 
streams  of  wondrous  beauty  that  flow  south"  and  we^t 
into  the  Delaware.  From  my  native  hills  I  could 
catch  glimpses  of  the  mountains  in  whose  laps  these 
creeks  were  cradled,  but  it  was  not  till  after  many 
years,  and  after  dwelling  in  a  country  where  trout 
are  not  found,  that  I  returned  to  pay  my  respects  to 
them  as  an  angler. 

My  first  acquaintance  with  the  Neversink  was 
made  in  company  with  some  friends  in  1869.  We 
passed  up  the  valley  of  the  Big  Ingin,  marveling  at 
its  copious  ice-cold  springs,  and  its  immense  sweep  of 
heavy  timbered  mountain  sides.  Crossing  the  range 
\t  its  head  we  struck  the  Neversink  quhe  unexpect- 


118  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

edly  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  at  a  p'oint 
where  it  was  a  good-sized  trout  stream.  It  proved 
to  be  one  of  those  black  mountain  brooks  born  of  in- 
numerable ice-cold  springs,  nourished  in  the  shade, 
and  shod,  as  it  were,  with  thick-matted  moss,  that 
every  camper-out  remembers.  The  fish  are  as  black 
as  the  stream  and  very  wild.  They  dart  from  be- 
neath the  fringed  rocks,  or  dive  with  the  hook  into 
the  dusky  depths,  —  an  integral  part  of  the  silence 
and  the  shadows.  The  spell  of  the  moss  is  over  all. 
The  fisherman's  tread  is  noiseless,  as  he  leaps  from 
stone  to  stone  and  from  ledge  to  ledge  along  the  bed 
of  the  stream.  How  cool  it  is  !  H3  looks  up  the 
dark,  silent  defile,  hears  the  solitary  voice  of  the 
water,  sees  the  decayed  trunks  of  fallen  trees  bridg- 
ing the  stream,  and  all  he  has  dreamed,  when  a  boy, 
!>f  the  haunts  of  beasts  of  prey  —  the  crouching 
feline  Bribes,  especially  if  it  be  near  nightfall  and 
the  gloom  already  deepening  in  the  woods  —  comes 
freshly  to  mind,  and  he  presses  on,  wary  and  alert, 
and  speaking  to  his  companions  in  low  tones. 

After  an  hour  or  so  the  trout  became  less  abun- 
dant, and  with  nearly  a  hundred  of  the  black  sprites 
in  our  baskets  we  turned  back.  Here  and  there  I 
saw  the  abandoned  nests  of  the  pigeons,  sometimes 
naif  a  dozen  in  one  tree.  In  a  yellow  birch  which 
the  floods  had  uprooted  a  number  of  nests  were  stil] 
.n  place,  little  shelves  or  platforms  of  twigs  loosely 
arranged  and  affording  little  or  no  protection  to  the 
eggs  or  the  young  birds  against  inclement  weather 


SPECKLED   TROUT.  119 

Before  we  had  reached  our  companions  the  rain 
get  in  again  and  forced  us  to  take  shelter  under  a 
balsam.  When  it  slackened  we  moved  on,  and  soon 
came  up  with  Aaron,  who  had  caught  his  first  trout, 
and,  considerably  drenched,  was  making  his  way 
toward  camp,  which  one  of  the  party  had  gone  for- 
ward to  build.  After  traveling  less  than  a  mile,  we 
saw  a  smoke  struggling  up  through  the  dripping  trees 
and  in  a  few  moments  were  all  standing  round  a 

o 

blazing  fire.  But  the  rain  now  commenced  again, 
and  fairly  poured  down  through  the  trees,  render- 
ing the  prospect  of  cooking  and  eating  our  supper 
there  in  the  woods,  and  of  passing  the  night  on  the 
ground  without  tent  or  cover  of  any  kind,  rather 
disheartening.  We  had  been  told  of  a  bark  shanty, 
a  couple  of  miles  farther  down  the  creek,  and  thither- 
ward we  speedily  took  up  our  line  of  march.  When 
we  were  on  the  point  of  discontinuing  the  search, 
thinking  we  had  been  misinformed  or  had  passed  it 
by,  we  came  in  sight  of  a  bark-peeling,  in  the  midst 
of  which  a  small  log-house  lifted  its  naked  rafters 
toward  the  now  breaking  sky.  It  had  neither  floor 
*ior  roof,  and  was  less  inviting  on  first  sight  than  the 
open  woods.  But  a  board  partition  was  still  stand- 
ing, out  of  which  we  built  a  rude  porch  on  the  east 
side  of  the  house,  large  enough  for  us  all  to  sleep 
under,  if  well  packed,  and  eat  under,  if  we  stood  up. 
There  was  plenty  of  well-seasone<?  timber  lying 
tbout,  and  a  fire  was  soon  burning  in  front  of  our 
quarters  that  made  the  scene  social  and  picturesque 


120  SPECKLED    TROUT. 

especially  when  the  frying-pans  were  brought  into 
requisition,  and  the  coffee,  in  charge  of  Aaron,  who 
was  an  artist  in  this  line,  mingled  its  aroma  with  the 
wild-wood  air.  At  dusk  a  balsam  was  felled,  and 
the  tips  of  the  branches  used  to  make  a  bed,  which 
was  more  fragrant  than  soft ;  hemlock  is  better,  be- 
cause its  needles  are  finer  and  its  branches  more 
elastic. 

There  was  a  spirt  or  two  of  rain  during  the  night, 
but  not  enough  to  find  out  the  leaks  in  our  roof.  It 
took  the  shower  or  series  of  showers  of  the  next  day 
to  do  that.  They  commenced  about  two  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon.  The  forenoon  had  been  fine,  and  we 
had  brought  into  camp  nearly  three  hundred  trout , 
but  before  they  were  half  dressed  or  the  first  panfuls 
fried,  the  rain  set  in.  First  came  short,  sharp  dashes, 
then  a  gleam  of  treacherous  sunshine,  followed  by 
more  and  heavier  dashes.  The  wind  was  in  the 
southwest,  and  to  rain  seemed  the  easiest  thing  in 
the  world.  From  fitful  dashes  to  a  steady  pour  the 
transition  was  natural.  We  stood  huddled  together, 
stark  and  grim,  under  our  cover,  like  hens  under  a 
cart.  The  fire  fought  bravely  for  a  time,  and  retal- 
iated with  sparks  and  spiteful  tongues  of  flame ;  but 
gradually  its  spirit  was  broken,  only  a  heavy  body  of 
coal  and  half -consumed  logs  in  the  centre  holding  out 
\gainst  all  odds.  The  simmering  fish  were  soon 
floating  about  in  a  yellow  liquid  that  did  not  look  ii? 
<he  least  appetizing.  Point  after  point  gave  way  in 
our  cover,  'ill  standing  between  the  drops  was  na 


SPECKLED    TROUT.  121 

ionger  possible.  The  water  coursed  down  the  under- 
side of  the  boards,  and  dripped  in  our  necks  and 
formed  puddles  on  our  hat-brims.  "We  shifted  our 
guns  and  traps  and  viands,  till  there  was  no  longer 
any  choice  of  position,  when  the  loaves  and  the  fishes, 
the  salt  and  the  sugar,  the  pork  and  the  butter, 
shared  the  same  watery  fate.  The  fire  was  gasp- 
ing its  last.  Little  rivulets  coursed  about  it,  and 
bore  away  the  quenched  but  steaming  coals  on  their 
bosoms.  The  spring  run  in  th6  rear  of  our  camp 
swelled  so  rapidly  that  part  of  the  trout  that  had 
been  hastily  left  lying  on  its  banks  again  found  them- 
selves quite  at  home.  For  over  two  hours  the  floods 
came  down.  About  four  o'clock,  Orville,  who  had 
not  yet  come  from  the  day's  sport,  appeared.  To 
say  Orville  was  wet  is  not  much ;  he  was  better  than 
that,  —  he  had  been  washed  and  rinsed  in  at  least 
half  a  dozen  waters,  and  the  trout  that  he  bore  dan- 
gling at  the  end  of  a  string  hardly  knew  that  they 
had  been  out  of  their  proper  element. 

But  he  brought  welcome  news.  He  had  been 
two  or  three  miles  down  the  creek,  and  had  seen  a 
og-building,  —  whether  house  or  stable  he  did  not 
know,  but  it  had  the  appearance  of  having  a  good 
roof,  which  was  inducement  enough  for  us  instantly  to 
leave  our  present  quarters.  Our  course  lay  along  an 
^ld  wood  road,  and  much  of  the  time  we  were  to 
our  knees  in  water.  The  woods  were  literally  flooded 
everywhere.  Every  little  rill  and  sprmglet  ran  like 
\  mill-tail,  while  the  main  stream  rushed  and  roared, 


122  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

foaming,  leaping,  lashing,  its  volume  increased  fifty- 
fold.  The  water  was  not  roily,  but  of  a  rich  coffee- 
color,  from  the  leechings  of  the  woods.  No  more 
trout  for  the  next  three  days  !  we  thought  as  we 
looked  upon  the  rampant  stream. 

After  we  had  labored  and  floundered  along  for 
about  an  hour,  the  road  turned  to  the  left,  and  in 
a  little  stumpy  clearing  near  the  creek  a  gable  up- 
rose on  our  view.  It  did  not  prove  to  be  just  such 
a  place  as  poets  love  to  contemplate.  It  required  a 
greater  effort  of  the  imagination  than  any  of  us  were 
then  capable  of,  to  believe  it  had  ever  been  a  favorite 
resort  of  wood-nymphs  or  sylvan  deities.  It  savored 
rather  of  the  equine  and  the  bovine.  The  bark-men 
had  kept  their  teams  there,  horses  on  the  one  side 
and  oxen  on  the  other,  and  no  Hercules  had  ever 
!  done  duty  in  cleansing  the  stables.  But  there  was  a 
dry  loft  overhead  with  some  straw,  where  we  might 
get  some  sleep,  in  spite  of  the  rain  and  the  midges ; 
a  double  layer  of  boards,  standing  at  a  very  acute  an- 
gle, would  keep  off  the  former,  while  the  mingled  ref- 
use hay  and  muck  beneath  would  nurse  a  smoke  that 
would  prove  a  thorough  protection  against  the  latter 
And  then,  when  Jim,  the  two-handed,  mounting  the 
trunk  of  a  prostrate  maple  near  by,  had  severed  it 
thrice  with  easy  and  familiar  stroke,  and,  rolling  the 
logs  in  front  of  the  shanty,  had  kindled  a  fire,  which, 
getting  the  better  of  the  dampness,  soon  cast  a  bright 
glow  over  all,  shedding  warmth  and  light  even  into 
the  dingy  stable,  I  consented  to  unsling  my  knapsacfc 


SPECKLED   TROUT.  123 

and  accept  the  situation.  The  rain  had  ceased  and 
the  sun  shone  out  behind  the  woods.  We  had  trout 
sufficient  for  present  needs  ;  and  after  my  first  meal 
in  an  ox^&tiQ  I  strolled  out  on  the  rude  log  bridge 
to  watch  the  angry  Neversink  rush  by.  Its  waters 
fell  quite  as  rapidly  as  they  rose,  and  before  sun- 
down it  looked  as  if  we  might  have  fishing  again  on 
the  morrow.  We  had  better  sleep  that,  night  than 
either  night  before,  though  there  were  two  disturb- 
ing causes,  —  the  smoke  in  the  early  part  of  it,  and 
the  cold  in  the  latter.  The  "  no-see-ems  "  left  in 
disgust ;  and,  though  disgusted  myself,  I  swallowed 
the  smoke  as  best  I  could,  and  hugged  my  pallet  of 
straw  the  closer.  But  the  day  dawned  bright,  and  a 
plunge  in  the  Neversink  set  me  all  right  again.  The 
creek,  to  our  surprise  and  gratification,  was  only  a 
little  higher  than  before  the  rain,  and  some  of  the 
finest  trout  we  had  yet  seen  we  caught  that  morning 
near  camp. 

We  tarried  yet  another  day  and  night  at  the  old 
stable,  but  taking  our  meals  outside  squatted  on  the 
ground,  which  had  now  become  quite  dry.  Part  of 
the  day  I  spent  strolling  about  the  woods,  looking  up 
old  acquaintances  among  the  birds,  and,  as  always, 
half  expectant  of  making  some  new  ones.  Curiously 
enough,  the  most  abundant  species  were  among  those 
I  had  found  rare  in  most  other  localities,  namely,  the 
amall  water  wagtail  (Seiurus  noveboracensis),  the 
mourning  ground  warbler,  and  the  yellow-bellied 
woodpecker.  The  latter  seems  to  be  the  prevailing 
woodpecker  through  the  woods  of  this  legion. 


124  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

That  night  the  midges,  those  motes  that  sting, 
held  high  carnival.  We  learned  afterward,  in  the 
settlement  below  and  from  the  bark-peelers,  that  it 
was  the  worst  night  ever  experienced  in  that  valley. 
We  had  done  no  fishing  during  the  day,  but  had 
anticipated  some  fine  sport  about  sundown.  Accord- 
ingly Aaron  and  I  started  off  between  six  and  seven 
o'clock,  one  going  up  stream  and  the  other  down. 
The  scene  was  charming.  The  sun  shot  up  great 
spokes  of  light  from  behind  the  woods,  and  beauty, 
like  a  presence,  pervaded  the  atmosphere.  But  tor- 
ment, multiplied  as  the  sands  of  the  sea-shore,  lurked 
in  every  tangle  and  thicket.  In  a  thoughtless  mo- 
ment I  removed  my  shoes  and  socks,  and  waded  in 
the  water  to  secure  a  fine  trout  that  had  accident- 
ally slipped  from  my  string  and  was  helplessly  float- 
ing with  the  current.  This  caused  some  delay  and 
gave  the  gnats  time  to  accumulate.  Before  I  had 
got  one  foot  half  dressed  I  was  enveloped  in  a  black 
mist  that  settled  upon  my  hands  and  neck  and  face, 
filling  my  ears  with  infinitesimal  pipirgs  and  cover- 
mg  my  flesh  with  infinitesimal  bi tings.  I  thought  I 
should  have  to  flee  to  the  friendly  fumes  of  the  old 
stable,  with  "one  stocking  off  and  one  stocking  on"; 
but  I  got  my  shoe  on  at  last,  though  not  without 
many  amusing  interruptions  and  digressions. 

In  a  few  moments  after  this  adventure  I  was  in 
rapid  retreat  toward  camp.  Just  as  I  reached  the 
path  leading  from  the  shanty  to  the  creek,  my  com 
panion  in  the  same  ignoble  flight  reached  it  also 


SPECKLED   TROUT.  125 

his  liat  broken  and  rumpled,  and  his  sanguine  coun- 
tenance looking  Inore  sanguinary  than  I  had  ever 
before  seen  it,  and  his  speech,  also,  in  the  highest 
degree  inflammatory.  His  face  and  forehead  were  as 
blotched  and  swollen  as  if  he  had  just  run  his  head 
into  a  hornets'  nest,  and  his  manner  as  precipitate  a^ 
if  the  whole  swarm  was  still  at  his  back. 

No  smoke  or  smudge  which  we  ourselves  coul<? 
endure  was  sufficient  in  the  earlier  part  of  that  even 
ing  to  prevent  serious  annoyance  from  the  sama 
cause  ;  but  later  a  respite  was  granted  us. 

About  ten  o'clock,  as  we  stood  round  our  camp- 
fire,  we  were  startled  by  a  brief  but  striking  display 
of  the  aurora  borealis.  My  imagination  had  already 
been  excited  by  talk  of  legends  and  of  weird  shapes 
and  appearances,  and  when,  on  looking  up  toward 
the  sky,  I  saw  those  pale,  phantasmal  waves  of  mag- 
netic light  chasing  each  other  across  the  little  open- 
ing above  our  heads,  and  at  first  sight  seeming  barely 
to  clear  the  tree-tops,  I  was  as  vividly  impressed  as 
if  I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  veritable  spectre  of 
the  Neversink.  The  sky  shook  and  trembled  like  a 
great  white  curtain. 

After  we  had  climbed  to  our  loft  and  had  lain 
down  to  sleep,  another  adventure  befell  us.  This 
time  a  new  and  uninviting  customer  appears  upon 
the  scene,  the  genius  loci  of  the  old  stable,  namely, 
the  "  fretful  porcupine."  We  had  seen  the  marka 
and  wo^ks  of  these  animals  about  the  shanty,  and 
ha'1  been  careful  each  night  to  hang  our  traps,  guns, 


126  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

etc.,  beyond  their  reach,  but  of  the  prickly  night- 
walker  himself  we  feared  we  should  not  get  ?»  view. 

We  had  lain  down  some  half-hour,  and  I  was  just 
on  the  threshold  of  sleep,  ready,  as  it  were,  to  pass 
through  the  open  door  into  the  land  of  dreams,  when 
I  heard  outside  somewhere  that  curious  sound,  —  a 
sound  which  I  had  heard  every  night  I  spent  in  these 
woods,  not  only  on  this  but  on  former  expeditions, 
and  which  I  had  settled  in  my  mind  as  proceeding 
from  the  porcupine,  since  I  knew  the  sounds  our 
other  common  animals  were  likely  to  make,  —  a 
sound  that  might  be  either  a  gnawing  on  some  hard, 
dry  substance,  or  a  grating  of  teeth,  or  a  shrill  grunt- 
ing. 

Orville  heard  it  also,  and,  raising  up  on  his  elbow, 
asked,  "  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  What  the  hunters  call  a  '  porcupig,'  "  said  I. 

"  Sure  ?  " 

"  Entirely  so." 

"  Why  does  he  make  that  noise  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  way  he  has  of  cursing  our  fire,"  I  replied. 
"  I  heard  him  last  night  also." 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  he  is  ? "  inquired  my 
companion,  showing  a  disposition  to  look  him  up. 

"  Not  far  of,  perhaps  fifteen  or  twenty  yards  from 
our  fire,  where  the  shadows  begin  to  deepen." 

Orville  slipped  into  his  trousers,  felt  for  my  gun, 
and  in  a  moment  had  disappeared  down  through  the 
scuttle  hole.  I  had  no  disposition  to  follow  him,  but 
was  rather  annoyed  than  otherwise  at  the  disturbance 


SPECKLED    TROUT.  127 

Getting  the  direction  of  the  sound,  he  went  picking 
his  way  over  the  rough,  uneven  ground,  and  when 
he  got  where  the  light  failed  him,  poking  every 
doubtful  object  with  the  end  of  his  gun.  Presently 
he  poked  a  light  grayish  object,  like  a  large  round 
stone,  which  surprised  him  by  moving  off.  On  this 
hint  he  fired,  making  an  incurable  wound  in  the 
"  porcupig,"  which,  nevertheless,  tried  harder  than 
ever  to  escape.  I  lay  listening  when,  close  on  the 
heels  of  the  report  of  the  gun,  came  excited  shouts 
for  a  revolver.  Snatching  up  my  Smith  and  Wes- 
son, I  hastened,  shoeless  and  hatless,  to  the  scene  of 
action,  wondering  what  was  up.  I  found  my  com- 
panion struggling  to  detain,  with  the  end  of  the  gun, 
an  uncertain  object  that  was  trying  to  crawl  off  into 
the  darkness.  "  Look  out !  "  said  Orville,  as  he  saw 
my  bare  feet,  "  the  quills  are  lying  thick  around 
here." 

And  so  they  were ;  he  had  blown  or  beaten  them 
nearly  all  off  the  poor  creature's  back,  and  was  in  a 
fair  way  completely  to  disable  my  gun,  the  ramrod 
of  which  was  already  broken  and  splintered  clubbing 
his  victim.  But  a  couple  of  shots  from  the  revolver, 
sighted  by  a  lighted  match,  at  the  head  of  the  animal, 
quickly  settled  him. 

It  proved  to  be  an  unusually  large  Canada  por- 
cupine, an  old  patriarch,  ^gray  and  venerable,  with 
spines  three  inches  long,  and  weighing,  I  should  say, 
twenty  pounds.  The  build  of  this  animal  is  much 
Uke  that  of  the  woodchuck,  that  is,  heavy  and 


128  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

pouchy.  The  nose  is  blunter  than  that  of  the  wood- 
chuck,  the  limbs  stronger,  and  the  tail  broader  and 
heavier.  Indeed,  the  latter  appendage  is  quite  club- 
like,  and  the  animal  can,  no  doubt,  deal  a  smart 
blow  with  it.  An  old  hunter  with  whom  I  talked 
thought  it  aided  them  in  climbing.  They  are  invet- 
erate gnawers,  and  spend  much  of  their  time  in  trees 
gnawing  the  bark.  In  winter  one  will  take  up  its 
abode  in  a  hemlock,  and  continue  there  till  the  tree 
is  quite  denuded.  The  carcass  emitted  a  peculiar 
offensive  odor,  and,  though  very  fat,  was  not  in  the 
least  inviting  as  game.  If  it  is  part  of  the  economy 
of  nature  for  one  animal  to  prey  upon  some  other 
beneath  it,  then  the  poor  devil  has  indeed  a  mouth- 
ful that  makes  a  meal  off  the  porcupine.  Panthers 
and  lynxes  have  essayed  it,  but  have  invariably  left 
off  at  the  first  course,  and  have  afterwards  been 
found  dead  or  nearly  so,  with  their  heads  puffed  up 
like  a  pincushion,  and  the  quills  protruding  on  all 
sides.  A  dog  that  understands  the  business  will 
manoeuvre  round  the  porcupine  till  he  gets  an  op 
portunity  to  throw  it  over  on  its  back,  when  he  fast- 
ens on  its  quilless  underbody.  Aaron  was  puzzled 
to  know  how  long-parted  friends  could  embrace, 
when  it  was  suggested  that  the  quills  could  be  de- 
pressed or  elevated  at  pleasure. 

The  next  morning  boded  rain ;  but  we  had  become 
thoroughly  sated  with  the  delights  of  our  present 
quarters,  outside  and  in,  and  packed  up  our  traps  to 
leave.  Before  we  had  reached  the  clearing,  three 


SPECKLED   TROUT.  129 

miles  below,  the  rain  set  in,  keeping  up  a  lazy,  mo- 
notonous drizzle  till  the  afternoon. 

The  clearing  was  quite  a  recent  one,  made  mostly 
by  bark-peelers,  who  followed  their  calling  in  the 
mountains  round  about  in  summer,  and  worked  in 
their  shops  making  shingle  in  winter.  The  Biscuit 
Brook  came  in  here  from  the  west,  —  a  fine,  rapid 
trout  stream  six  or  eight  miles  in  length,  with  plenty 
of  deer  in  the  mountains  about  its  head.  On  its 
banks  we  found  the  house  of  an  old  woodman,  to 
whom  we  had  been  directed  for  information  about 
the  section  we  proposed  to  traverse. 

"  Is  the  way  very  difficult,"  we  inquired,  "  across 
from  the  Neversink  into  the  head  of  the  Beaver- 
kill  ?  " 

"  Not  to  me  ;  I  could  go  it  the  darkest  night  ever 
was.  And  I  can  direct  you  so  you  can  find  the  way 
without  any  trouble.  You  go  down  the  Neversink 
about  a  mile,  when  you  come  to  Highfall  Brook,  the 
first  stream  that  comes  down  on  the  right.  Follow 
up  it  to  Jim  Reed's  shanty,  about  three  miles.  Then 
cross  the  stream,  and  on  the  left  bank,  pretty  well 
up  on  the  side  of  the  mountain,  you  will  find  a  wood- 
road,  which  was  made  by  a  fellow  below  here  who 
stole  some  ash  logs  off  the  top  of  the  ridge  last  win- 
ter and  drew  them  out  on  the  snow.  When  the  road 
first  begins  to  tilt  over  the  mountain,  strike  down  to 
your  left,  and  you  can  reach  the  Beaverkill  before 
sundown." 

As  it  was  then  after  two  o'clock,  and  as  the  dis- 
9 


130  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

tance  was  six  or  eight  of  these  terrible  hunters'  miles, 
we  concluded  to  take  a  whole  day  to  it,  and  wait 
till  next  morning.  The  Beaverkill  flowed  west,  the 
Neversink  south,  and  I  had  a  mortal  dread  of  getting 
entangled  amid  the  mountains  and  valleys  that  lie  in 
either  angle. 

Besides,  I  was  glad  of  another  and  final  opportu- 
nity to  pay  my  respects  to  the  finny  tribes  of  the 
Neversink.  At  this  point  it  was  one  of  the  finest 
trout  streams  I  had  ever  beheld.  It  was  so  spurk- 
ling,  its  bed  so  free  from  sediment  or  impurities  of 
any  kind,  that  it  had  a  new  look,  as  if  it  had  just 
come  from  the  hand  of  its  Creator.  I  tramped  along 
its  margin  upward  of  a  mile  that  afternoon,  part  of 
the  time  wading  to  my  knees,  and  casting  my  hook, 
baited  only  with  a  trout's  fin,  to  the  opposite  bank. 
Trout  are  real  cannibals,  and  make  no  bones,  and 
break  none  either,  in  lunching  on  each  other.  A 
friend  of  mine  had  several  in  his  spring,  when  one 
day  a  large  female  trout  gulped  down  one  of  her 
male  friends,  nearly  one  third  her  own  size  and  went 
around  for  two  days  with  the  tail  of  her  liege  lord 
protruding  from  her  mouth.  A  fish's  eye  will  do  for 
bait,  though  the  anal  fin  is  better.  One  of  the  na- 
tives here  told  me  that  when  he  wished  to  catch  large 
trout  (and  I  judged  he  never  fished  for  any  other,  — 
I  never  do),  he  used  for  bait  the  bullhead  or  dart,  a 
little  fish  an  inch  and  a  half  or  two  inches  long,  that 
rests  on  the  pebbles  near  shore  and  darts  quickly, 
when  disturbed,  from  point  to  point.  "  Put  that  on 


SPECKLED   TROUT.  131 

pour  hook,"  said  he,  "  and  if  there  is  a  big  fish  in 
the  creek  he  is  bound  to  have  it."  But  the  daits 
were  not  easily  found ;  the  big  fish,  I  concluded,  had 
cleaned  them  all  out ;  and,  then,  it  was  easy  enough 
to  supply  our  wants  with  a  fin. 

Declining  the  hospitable  offers  of  the  settlers,  we 
spread  our  blankets  that  night  in  a  dilapidated  shin- 
gle-shop on  the  banks  of  the  Biscuit  Brook,  first 
flooring  the  damp  ground  with  the  new  shingle  that 
lay  piled  in  one  corner.  The  place  had  a  great- 
throated  chimney  with  a  tremendous  expanse  of  fire- 
place within,  that  cried  "  More  "  at  every  morsel  of 
wood  we  gave  it. 

But  I  must  hasten  over  this  part  of  the  ground, 
nor  let  the  delicious  flavor  of  the  milk  we  had  that 
morning  for  breakfast,  and  that  was  so  delectable 
after  four  days  of  fish,  linger  on  my  tongue,  nor  yet 
tarry  to  set  down  the  talk  of  that  honest,  weather- 
worn passer-by  who  paused  before  our  door,  and 
every  moment  on  the  point  of  resuming  his  way,  yet 
stood  for  an  hour  and  recited  his  adventures  hunting 
deer  and  bears  on  these  mountains.  Having  replen- 
ished our  stock  of  bread  and  salt  pork  at  the  house 
of  one  of  the  settlers,  midday  found  us  at  Reed's 
shanty,  —  one  of  those  temporary  structures  erected 
by  the  bark  jobber,  to  lodge  and  board  his  "  hands  " 
near  their  work.  Jim  not  being  at  home,  we  could 
gain  no  information  from  the  "  women  folks  "  about 
the  way,  nor  from  the  men  who  had  just  come  in  to 
iinner ;  so  we  pushed  en,  as  near  as  we  could,  ac- 


132  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

cording  to  the  instructions  we  had  previously  re- 
ceived. Crossing  the  creek,  we  forced  our  way  up 
the  side  of  the  mountain,  through  a  perfect  cheval-de- 
frise  of  fallen  and  peeled  hemlocks,  and  entering  the 
dense  woods  above,  began  to  look  anxiously  about 
for  the  wood-road.  My  companions  at  first  could  see 
no  trace  of  it ;  but  knowing  that  a  casual  wood-road 
cut  in  winter,  when  there  was  likely  to  be  two  or 
three  feet  of  snow  on  the  ground,  would  present  only 
the  slightest  indications  to  the  eye  in  summer,  I 
looked  a  little  closer,  and  could  make  out  a  mark  or 
two  here  and  there.  The  larger  trees  had  been 
avoided,  and  the  axe  used  only  on  the  small  saplings 
and  underbrush,  which  had  been  lopped  off  a  couple 
of  feet  from  the  ground.  By  being  constantly  on 
the  alert,  we  followed  it  till  near  the  top  of  the  mount- 
ain ;  but  when  looking  to  see  it  "  tilt "  over  the 
other  side,  it  disappeared  altogether.  Some  stumps 
of  the  black  cherry  were  found,  and  a  solitary  pair 
of  snow-shoes  were  hanging  high  and  dry  on  a  branch, 
but  no  further  trace  of  human  hands  could  we  see. 
While  we  were  resting  here  a  couple  of  hermit 
thrushes,  one  of  them  with  some  sad  defect  in  his 
vocal  powers  which  barred  him  from  uttering  more 
than  a  few  notes  of  his  song,  gave  v^  ice  to  the  soli- 
tude of  the  place.  This  was  the  second  instance  in 
which  I  have  observed  a  song-bird  with  apparently 
some  organic  defect  in  its  instrument.  The  other 
case  was  that  of  a  bobolink,  which,  hover  in  mid  air 
and  inflate  its  throat  as  it  might,  could  only  fore* 


SPECKLED    TROUT.  133 

out  a  few  incoherent  notes.  But  the  bird  in  each 
case  presented  this  striking  contrast  to  human  exam- 
ples of  the  kind,  that  it  was  apparently  just  as  proud 
of  itself  and*  just  as  well  satisfied  with  its  perform- 
ance as  its  more  successful  rivals. 

After  deliberating  some  time  over  a  pocket-com- 
pass which  I  carried,  we  decided  upon  our  course,  and 
held  on  to  the  west.  The  descent  was  very  gradual. 
Traces  of  bear  and  deer  were  noted  at  different  points, 
but  not  a  live  animal  was  seen. 

About  four  o'clock  we  reached  the  bank  of  a  stream 
flowing  west.  Hail  to  the  Beaverkill !  and  we  pushed 
on  along  its  banks.  The  trout  were  plenty,  and  rose 
quickly  to  the  hook ;  but  we  held  on  our  way,  de- 
signing to  go  into  camp  about  six  o'clock.  Many 
inviting  places,  first  on  one  bank,  then  on  the  other, 
made  us  linger,  till  finally  we  reached  a  smooth,  dry 
place  overshadowed  by  balsam  and  hemlock,  where 
the  creek  bent  around  a  little  flat,  which  was  so 
entirely  to  our  fancy  that  we  unslung  our  knap- 
sacks at  once.  While  my  companions  were  cutting 
wood  and  making  other  preparations  for  the  night,  it 
fell  to  my  lot,  as  the  most  successful  angler,  to  pro- 
vide the  trout  for  supper  and  breakfast.  How  shall 
I  describe  that  wild,  beautiful  stream,  with  features 
bo  like  those  of  all  other  mountain  streams  ?  And 
yet,  as  I  saw  it  in  the  deep  twilight  of  those  woods 
~n  that  June  afternoon,  with  its  steady,  even  flow, 
and  its  tranquil,  many-voiced  murmur,  it  made  an 
impression  upon  my  mind  distinct  and  peculiar, 


134  SPECKLED    TROUT. 

fraught  in  an  eminent  degree  with  the  charm  of  se- 
clusion and  remoteness.  The  solitude  was  perfect, 
and  I  felt  that  strangeness  and  insignificance  which 
the  civilized  man  must  always  feel  when  opposing 
himself  to  such  a  vast  scene  of  silence  and  wildness. 
The  trout  were  quite  black,  like  all  wood  trout,  and 
took  the  bait  eagerly.  I  followed  the  stream  till  the 
deepening  shadows  warned  me  to  turn  back.  As  I 
neared  camp,  the  fire  shone  far  through  the  trees, 
dispelling  the  gathering  gloom,  but  blinding  my  eyes 
to  all  obstacles  at  my  feet.  I  was  seriously  disturbed 
on  arriving  to  find  that  one  of  my  companions  had 
cut  an  ugly  gash  in  his  shin  with  the  axe,  while  fell- 
ing a  tree.  As  we  did  not  carry  a  fifth  wheel,  it 
was  not  just  the  time  or  place  to  have  any  of  our 
members  crippled,  and  I  had  bodings  of  evil.  But, 
thanks  to  the  healing  virtues  of  the  balsam,  which 
must  have  adhered  to  the  blade  of  the  axe,  and 
double  thanks  to  the  court-plaster  with  which  Orville 
had  supplied  himself  before  leaving  home,  the  wounded 
leg,  by  being  favored  that  night  and  the  next  day, 
gave  us  little  trouble. 

That  night  we  had  our  first  fair  and  square  camp- 
ing out,  —  that  is,  sleeping  on  the  ground  with  no 
shelter  over  us  but  the  trees,  —  and  it  was  in  many 
respects  the  pleasantest  night  we  spent  in  the  woods. 
The  weather  was  perfect  and  the  place  was  perfect, 
and  for  the  first  time  we  were  exempt  from  the 
midges  and  smoke ;  and  then  we  appreciated  the 
clean  new  page  we  had  to  work  on.  Nothing  is  so 


SPECKLED   TROUT.  IBS 

acceptable  to  the  camper-out  as  a  pure  article  in  the 
way  of  woods  and  waters.  Any  admixture  of  human 
relics  mars  the  spirit  of  the  scene.  Yet  I  am  willing 
to  confess  that,  before  we  were  through  those  woods, 
the  marks  of  an  axe  in  a  tree  was  a  welcome  sight. 
On  resuming  our  march  next  day  we  followed  the 
right  bank  of  the  Beaverkill,  in  order  to  strike  a 
stream  which  flowed  in  from  the  north,  and  which 
was  the  outlet  of  Balsam  Lake,  the  objective  point 
of  that  day's  march.  The  distance  to  the  lake  from 
our  camp  could  not  have  been  over  six  or  seven 
miles ;  yet,  traveling  as  we  did,  without  path  or 
guide,  climbing  up  banks,  plunging  into  ravines,  mak- 
ing detours  around  swampy  places,  and  forcing  our 
way  through  woods  choked  up  with  much  fallen  and 
decayed  timber,  it  seemed  at  least  twice  that  distance, 
and  the  mid-afternoon  sun  was  shining  when  we 
emerged  into  what  is  called  the  "  Quaker  Clearing," 
ground  that  I  had  been  over  nine  years  before,  and 
that  lies  about  two  miles  south  of  the  lake.  From 
this  point  we  had  a  well-worn  path  that  led  us  up  a 
sharp  rise  of  ground,  then  through  level  woods  till 
we  saw  the  bright  gleam  of  the  water  through  the 
trees. 

I  am  always  struck  on  approaching  these  little 
mountain  lakes  with  the  extensive  preparation  that 
is  made  for  them  in  the  conformation  of  the  ground. 
I  am  thinking  of  a  depression,  or  natural  basin  in 
the  side  of  the  mountain  or  on  its  top,  the  brink  of 
I  shall  reach  after  a  little  steep  climbing ;  but 


136  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

instead  of  that,  after  I  have  accomplished  the  ascent, 
I  find  a  broad  sweep  of  level  or  gently  undulating 
woodland  that  brings  me  after  a  half  hour  or  so  to 
the  lake,  which  lies  in  this  vast  lap  like  a  drop  of 
water  in  the  palm  of  a  man's  hand. 

Balsam  Lake  was  oval  shaped,  scarcely  more  than 
half  a  mile  long  and  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide,  but 
presented  a  charming  picture,  with  a  group  of  dark 
gray  hemlocks  filling  the  valley  about  its  head,  and 
the  mountains  rising  above  and  beyond.  We  found 
a  bough  house  in  good  repair,  also  a  dug-out  and 
paddle  and  several  floats  of  logs.  In  the  dug-out  I 
was  soon  creeping  along  the  shady  side  of  the  lake, 
where  the  trout  were  incessantly  jumping  for  a 
species  of  black  fly,  that,  sheltered  from  the  slight 
breeze,  were  dancing  in  swarms  just  above  the  sur- 
face of  the  water.  The  gnats  were  there  in  swarms 
also,  and  did  their  best  toward  balancing  the  accounts 
by  preying  upon  me  while  I  preyed  upon  the  trout 
which  preyed  upon  the  flies.  But  by  dint  of  keeping 
my  hands,  face,  and  neck  constantly  wet,  I  am  con- 
vinced that  the  balance  of  blood  was  on  my  side. 
The  trout  jumped  most  within  a  foot  or  two  of  shore, 
where  the  water  was  only  a  few  inches  deep.  The 
shallowness  of  the  water  perhaps  accounted  for  the 
inability  of  the  fish  to  do  more  than  lift  their  heads 
above  the  surface.  They  came  up  mouth  wide  open, 
and  dropped  back  again  in  the  most  impotent  man- 
ner. Where  there  is  any  depth  of  water,  a  trout 
will  jump  several  feet  into  the  air ;  and  where  ther« 


SPECKLED   TROUT.  131 

is  a  solid,  unbroken  sheet  or  column,  they  will  scale 
falls  and  dams  fifteen  feet  high. 

We  had  the  very  cream  and  flower  of  our  trout- 
fishing  at  this  lake.  For  the  first  time  we  could  use 
the  fly  to  advantage  ;  and  then  the  contrast  between 
laborious  tramping  along  shore,  on  the  one  hand,  an<3 
sitting  in  one  end  of  a  dug-out  and  casting  your  line 
right  and  left  with  no  fear  of  entanglement  in  brush 
or  branch,  while  you  was  gently  propelled  along,  oo 
the  other,  was  of  the  most  pleasing  character. 

There  were  two  varieties  of  trout  in  the  lake,  — 
what  it  seems  proper  to  call  silver  trout  and  golden 
trout ;  the  former  were  the  slimmer  and  seemed  to 
keep  apart  from  the  latter.  Starting  iron)  the  outlet 
and  working  round  on  the  eastern  f\de  toward  the 
head,  we  invariably  caught  these  first.  They  glanced 
in  the  sun  like  bars  of  silver.  Their  Fides  and  bellies 
were  indeed  as  white  as  new  silver.  As  we  nearedt 
the  head,  and  especially  as  w^e  came  near  a  space 
occupied  by  some  kind  of  watergrass  that  grew  ID 
the  deeper  part  of  the  lake,  tho  other  variety  would 
begin  to  take  the  hook,  their  bellies  a  bright  gold 
color,  which  became  a  deep  orange  on  their  fins ; 
and  as  we  returned  to  the  place  of  departure  with 
the  bottom  of  the  boat  strewn  with  these  bright 
forms  intermingled,  it,  was  a  sight  not  soon  to  be 
forgotten.  It  pleased  my  eye  so,  that  I  would  fain 
linger  over  them,  arranging  them  in  rows  and  study- 
^ng  the  various  hues  and  tints.  They  were  of  nearly 
a  uniform  size,  rarely  one  over  ten  or  under  eight 


138  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

inches  in  length,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  hues  of  all 
the  precious  metals  and  stones  were  reflected  from 
their  sides.  The  flesh  was  deep  salmon-color  ;  that 
of  brook  trout  is  generally  much  lighter.  Some 
hunters  and  fishers  from  the  valley  of  the  Mill  Brook, 
whom  we  met  here,  told  us  the  trout  were  much 
larger  in  the  lake,  though  far  less  numerous  than 

O  '  O 

they  used  to  be.  Brook-trout  do  not  grow  large  till 
they  become  scarce.  It  is  only  in  streams  that  have 
been  long  and  much  fished  that  I  have  caught  them 
as  much  as  sixteen  inches  in  length. 

The  "  porcupigs  "  were  numerous  about  the  lake, 
and  not  at  all  shy.  One  night  the  heat  became  so 
intolerable  in  our  oven-shaped  bough  house,  that  I 
was  obliged  to  withdraw  from  under  its  cover  and 
lie  down  a  little  to  one  side.  Just  at  daybreak,  as  I 
lay  rolled  in  my  blanket,  something  awoke  me.  Lift- 
ing up  my  head,  there  was  a  porcupine  with  his  fore- 
paws  on  my  hips.  He  was  apparently  as  much  sur- 
prised as  I  was  ;  and  to  my  inquiry  as  to  what  he  at 
that  moment  might  be  looking  for,  he  did  not  pause 
to  reply,  but  hitting  me  a  slap  with  his  tail  which 
k  eft  three  or  four  quills  in  my  blanket,  he  scampered 
DfF  down  the  hill  into  the  brush. 

Being  an  observer  of  the  birds,  of  course  every 
curious  incident  connected  with  them  fell  under  my 
notice.  Hence  as  we  stood  about  our  camp-fire  one 
afternoon,  looking  out  over  the  lake,  I  was  the  only 
one  to  see  a  little  commotion  in  the  water,  half  hid. 
den  by  the  near  branches,  as  of  some  tiny  swimmer 


SPECKLED   TROUT.  139 

itruggling  to  reach  the  shore.  Rushing  to  itc  rescue 
in  the  canoe,  I  found  a  yellow-rumped  warbler,  quite 
exhausted,  clinging  to  a  twig  that  hung  down  into 
the  water;  I  brought  the  drenched  and  helpless 
thing  to  camp,  and,  putting  it  into  a  basket,  hung  it 
up  to  dry.  An  hour  or  two  afterward  I  heard  it  flut- 
tering in  its  prison,  and  cautiously  lifting  the  lid  to 
get  a  better  glimpse  of  the  lucky  captive,  it  darted 
out  and  was  gone  in  a  twinkling.  How  came  it  in 
the  water  ?  That  was  my  wonder,  and  I  can  only 
guess  that  it  was  a  young  bird  that  had  never  before 
flown  over  a  pond  of  water,  and,  seeing  the  clouds 
and  blue  sky  so  perfect  down  there,  thought  it  was  a 
vast  opening  or  gateway  into  another  summer  land, 
perhaps  a  short  cut  to  the  tropics,  and  so  got  itself 
into  trouble.  How  my  eye  was  delighted  also  with 
the  red-bird  that  alighted  for  a  moment  on  a  dry 
branch  above  the  lake,  just  where  a  ray  of  light 
from  the  setting  sun  fell  full  upon  it.  A  mere  crim- 
son point,  and  yet  how  it  offset  that  dark,  sombre 
background ! 

I  have  thus  run  over  some  of  the  features  of  an 
ordinary  trouting  excursion  to  the  woods.  People, 
inexperienced  in  such  matters,  sitting  in  their  rooms 
and  thinking  of  these  things,  of  all  the  poets  have 
sung  and  romancers  written,  are  apt  to  get  sadly 
jaken  in  when  they  attempt  to  realize  their  dreams. 
They  expect  to  enter  a  sylvan  paradise  of  trout,  cool 
'etreats,  laughing  brooks,  picturesque  views,  balsamio 


140  SPECKLED   TROUT. 

couches,  etc.,  instead  of  which  they  find  hunger,  rain, 
smoke,  toil,  gnats,  mosquitoes,  dirt,  broken  rest,  vul- 
gar guides,  and  salt  pork ;  and  they  are  very  apt  not 
to  see  where  the  fun  comes  in.  But  he  who  goes  in 
a  right  spirit  will  not  be  disappointed,  and  will  find 
the  taste  of  this  kind  of  life  better,  though  bitterer, 
than  the  writers  have  described. 


BIRDS  AND  BIEDS. 


BIRDS  AND  BIRDS. 


THERE  is  an  old  legend  which  one  of  our  poets 
has  made  use  of  about  the  bird  in  the  brain  —  a 
legend  based,  perhaps,  upon  the  human  significance  of 
our  feathered  neighbors.  Was  not  Audubon's  brain 
full  of  birds,  and  very  lively  ones  too  ?  A  person 
who  knew  him  says  he  looked  like  a  bird  himself : 
keen,  alert,  wide-eyed.  It  is  not  unusual  to  see  the 
hawk  looking  out  of  the  human  countenance,  and  one 

o  » 

may  see  or  have  seen  that  still  nobler  bird,  the 
eagle.  The  song-birds  might  all  have  been  brooded 
and  hatched  in  the  human  heart.  They  are  typical 
of  its  highest  aspirations,  and  nearly  the  whole 
gamut  of  human  passion  and  emotion  is  expressed 
more  or  less  fully  in  their  varied  songs.  Among  our  • 
own  birds  there  is  the  song  of  the  hermit-thrush  for 

o 

devoutness  and  religious  serenity,  that  of  the  wood- 
thrush  for  the  musing,  melodious  thoughts  of  twilight, 
the  song-sparrow's  for  simple  faith  and  trust,  the 
bobolink's  for  hilarity  and  glee,  the  mourning-dove's 
for  hopeless  sorrow,  the  vireo's  for  all-day  and  every- 


144  BIRDS   AND   BIRDS. 

day  contentment,  and  the  nocturn  of  the  mocking- 
bird for  love.  Then  there  are  the  plaintive  singers, 
the  soaring,  ecstatic  singers,  the  confident  singers, 
the  gushing  and  voluble  singers,  and  the  naif-voiced, 
inarticulate  singers.  The  note  of  the  pewee  is  a 
human  sigh,  the  chickadee  has  a  call  full  of  unspeak- 
able tenderness  and  fidelity.  There  is  pride  in  the 
song  of  the  tanager,  and  vanity  in  that  of  the  cat- 
bird. There  is  something  distinctly  human  about  the 
robin  ;  his  is  the  note  of  boyhood.  I  have  thoughts 
that  follow  the  migrating  fowls  northward  and  south- 
ward, and  that  go  with  the  sea-birds  into  the  desert  of 
the  ocean,  lonely  and  tireless  as  they.  I  sympathize 
with  the  watchful  crow  perched  yonder  on  that  tree, 
or  walking  about  the  fields.  I  hurry  outdoors  when 
I  hear  the  clarion  of  the  wild  gander ;  his  comrade 
in  my  heart  sends  back  the  call. 

ii. 

Here  comes  the  cuckoo,  the  solitary,  the  joyless, 
enamored  of  the  privacy  of  his  own  thoughts  ;  when 
did  he  fly  away  out  of  this  brain  ?  The  cuckoo  is 
one  of  the  famous  birds,  and  is  known  the  world 
over.  He  is  mentioned  in  the  Bible,  and  is  discussed 
by  Pliny  and  Aristotle.  Jupiter  himself  once  as- 
sumed the  form  of  the  cuckoo  in  order  to  take  advan- 
tage of  Juno's  compassion  for  the  bird. 

We  have  only  a  reduced  and  modified  cuckoo  in 
Jiis  country.  Our  bird  is  smaller,  and  is  much  more 
solitary  and  unsocial.  Its  color  is  totally  different 


BIRDS   AN  )   BIRDS.  145 

from  the  Old  World  bird,  the  latter  being  speckled, 
or  a  kind  of  dominick,  while  ours  is  of  the  finest 
cinnamon-brown  or  drab  above,  and  bluish- white  be- 
neath, with  a  gloss  and  richness  of  texture  in  the 
plumage  that  suggests  silk.  The  bird  has  also 
mended  its  manners  in  this  country,  and  no  longer 
foists  its  eggs  and  young  upon  other  birds,  but  builds 
a  nest  of  its  owi  and  rears  its  own  brood  like  other 
well-disposed  birds. 

The  European  cuckoo  is  evidently  much  more  of 
a  spring  bird  than  ours  is,  much  more  a  harbinger  of 
the  early  season.  He  comes  in  April,  while  ours  sel- 
dom appears  before  June,  and  hardly  then  appears. 
He  is  printed,  as  they  say,  but  not  published.  Only 
the  alert  ones  know  he  is  here.  This  old  English 
rhyme  on  the  cuckoo  does  not  apply  this  side  the 
Atlantic :  — 

"  In  April 

Come  he  will, 

In  flow'ry  May 

He  sings  all  day, 

In  leafy  June 

He  changes  his  tune. 

In  bright  July 

He  rs  ready  to  fly, 

In  August 

Go  he  must." 

Our  bird  must  go  in  August  toe,  but  at  no  time  does 
he  sing  all  day.  Indeed,  his  peculiar  guttural  call 
has  none  of  the  character  of  3  song.  It  is  a  solitary, 
hermit-like  sound,  as  if  the  bird  was  alone  in  the 

world,  and  called  upon  the  fates  to  witness  his  desola- 

10  * 


116  BIRDS   AND   BIRDS. 

tion.  I  have  never  seen  two  cuckoos  together,  and  1 
have  never  heard  their  call  answered ;  it  goes  forth 
into  the  solitudes  unreclaimed.  Like  a  true  Ameri- 
can, the  bird  lacks  animal  spirits  and  a  genius  for 
social  intercourse.  One  August  night  I  heard  one 
calling,  calling,  a  long  time  not  far  from  my  house. 
It  was  a  true  night  sound,  more  fitting  then  than  by 
day. 

The  European  cuckoo,  on  the  other  hand,  seems 
to  be  a  joyous,  vivacious  bird.  Wordsworth  applies 
to  it  the  adjective  "  blithe,"  and  says :  — 

"  I  hear  thee  babbling  to  the  vale 
Of  sunshine  and  of  flowers." 

English  writers  all  agree  that  its  song  is  animated 
and  pleasing,  and  the  outcome  of  a  light  heart. 
Thomas  Hardy,  whose  touches  always  seem  true  to 
nature,  describes  in  one  of  his  books  an  early  sum- 
mer scene  from  amid  which  "  the  loud  notes  of  three 
cuckoos  were  resounding  through  the  still  air."  This 
is  totally  unlike  our  bird,  which  does  not  sing  in 
concert,  but  affects  remote  woods,  and  is  most  fre- 
quently heard  in  cloudy  weather.  Hence  the  name 
of  rain-crow  that  is  applied  to  him  in  some  parts  of 
the  country.  I  am  more  than  half  inclined  to  believe 
that  his  call  does  indicate  rain,  as  it  "?  certain  that  of 
the  tree-toad  does. 

The  cuckoo  has  a  slender,  long-drawn-out  appear- 
ance on  account  of  the  great  length  of  tail.  It  is 
seldom  seen  about  farms  or  near  human  habitations 
until  the  June  cankerworm  appears,  when  it  make* 


BIEDS   AND   BIRDS.  147 

frequent  visits  to  the  orchard.  It  loves  hairy  worms, 
and  has  eaten  so  many  of  them  that  its  gizzard  is 
lined  with  hair. 

The  European  cuckoo  builds  no  nest,  but  puts  its 
eggs  out  to  be  hatched,  as  does  our  cow  blackbird, 
and  our  cuckoo  is  master  of  only  the  rudiments  of 
nest-building.  No  bird  in  the  woods  builds  so  shabby 
a  nest ;  it  is  the  merest  makeshift,  —  a  loose  scaffold- 
ing of  twigs  through  which  the  eggs  can  be  seen. 
One  season,  I  knew  of  a  pair  that  built  within  a  few 
feet  of  a  country  house  that  stood  in  the  midst  of  a 
grove,  but  a  heavy  storm  of  rain  and  wind  broke  up 
the  nest. 

If  the  Old  World  cuckoo  had  been  as  silent  and 
retiring  a  bird  as  oars  is,  it  could  never  have  figured 
BO  conspicuously  in  literature  as  it  does,  —  having  a 
prominence  that  we  would  give  only  to  the  bobolink 
or  to  the  wood-thrush,  —  as  witness  his  frequent  men- 
tion by  Shakespeare,  or  the  following  early  English 
ballad  (in  modern  guise)  :  — 

"  Summer  is  come  in, 
Loud  sings  the  cuckoo ; 
Groweth  seed  and  bloweth  mead, 
And  springs  the  wood  now. 

Sing,  cuckoo; 
The  ewe  bleateth  for  her  lamb, 

The  cow  loweth  for  her  calf, 

The  bullock  starteth, 
The  buck  verteth, 
Merrily  sing3  the  cuckoo: 
Cuckoo,  cuckoo; 
Well  sings  the  cuckoo, 
Mayest  thou  never  cease.'* 


148  BIRDS  AND   BIRDS. 

III. 

I  think  it  will  be  found,  on  the  whole,  that  the 
European  birds  are  a  more  hardy  and  pugnacious 
race  than  ours,  and  that  their  song-birds  have  more 
vivacity  and  power,  and  ours' more  melody  and  plain- 
tiveness.  In  the  song  of  the  sky -lark,  for  instance, 
there  is  little  or  no  melody,  but  wonderful  strength 
and  copiousness.  It  is  a  harsh  strain  near  at  hand, 
but  very  taking  when  showered  down  from  a  height 
of  several  hundred  feet. 

Daines  Barrington,  the  naturalist  of  the  last  cent- 
ury, to  whom  White  of  Selborne  addressed  so  many 
of  his  letters,  gives  a  table  of  the  comparative  merit 
of  seventeen  leading  song-birds  of  Europe,  marking 
them  under  the  heads  of  mellowness,  sprightliness, 
plaintiveness,  compass  and  execution.  In  the  aggre- 
gate, the  songsters  stand  highest  in  sprightlmess, 
next  in  compass  and  execution,  and  lowest  in  the 
other  two  qualities.  A  similar  arrangement  and 
comparison  of  our  songsters,  I  think,  would  show  an 
opposite  result,  —  that  is,  a  predominance  of  melody 
and  plaintiveness.  The  British  wren,  for  instance, 
stands  in  Barrington's  table,  as  destitute  of  both 
these  qualities ;  the  reed-sparrow  also.  Our  wren- 
Fongs,  on  the  contrary,  are  gushing  and  lyrical,  and 
more  or  less  melodious,  —  that  of  the  winter- wren 
being  preeminently  so.  Our  sparrows,  too,  all  have 
sweet,  plaintive  ditties,  with  but  little  sprightliness  or 
compass.  The  English  house-sparrow  has  no  song  at 


BIRDS   AND   BIRDS.  149 

all,  but  a  harsh  chitter  that  is  unmatched  among  our 
birds.  But  what  a  hardy,  prolific,  pugnacious  little 
wretch  it  is  !  They  will  maintain  themselves  where 
our  birds  will  not  live  at  all,  and  a  pair  of  them  will 
lie  down  in  the  gutter  and  fight  like  dogs.  Com- 
pared with  this  miniature  John  Bull,  the  voice  and 
manners  of  our  common  sparrow  are  gentle  and  re- 
tiring. The  English  sparrow  is  a  street  gamin,  our 
bird  a  timid  rustic. 

The  English  robin-redbreast  is  tallied  in  this  coun- 
try by  the  bluebird,  which  was  called  by  the  early 
settlers  of  New  England  the  blue-robin.  The  song 
of  the  British  bird  is  bright  and  animated ;  that  of 
our  bird  soft  and  plaintive. 

The  nightingale  stands  at  the  head  in  Barrington's 
table,  and  is  but  little  short  of  perfect  in  all  the 
qualities.  We  have  no  one  bird  that  combines  such 
strength  or  vivacity  with  such  melody.  The  mock- 
ing-bird doubtless  surpasses  it  in  variety  and  profu- 
sion of  notes  ;  but  falls  short,  I  imagine,  in  sweetness 
and  effectiveness.  The  nightingale  will  sometimes 
warble  twenty  seconds  without  pausing  to  breathe, 
and  when  the  condition  of  the  air  is  favorable  its 
song  fills  a  space  a  mile  in  diameter.  There  are, 
perhaps,  songs  in  our  woods  as  mellow  and  brilliant, 
&s  is  that  of  the  closely  allied  species,  the  water- 
thrush  ;  but  our  bird's  song  has  but  a  mere  fraction 
of  the  nightingale's  volume  and  power. 

Strength  and  volume  of  vofce,  then,  seem  to  be 
characteristic  of  the  English  birds,  and  mildness  and 


150  BIRDS   AND   BIRDS. 

delicacy  of  ours.  How  much  the  thousands  of  years 
of  contact  with  man,  and  familiarity  with  artificial 
sounds,  over  there,  have  affected  the  bird  voices  is  a 
question.  Certain  it  is  that  their  birds  are  much 
more  domestic  than  ours,  and  certain  it  is  that  all 
purely  wild  sounds  are  plaintive  and  elusive.  Even 
of  the  bark  of  the  fox,  the  cry  of  the  panther,  the 
voice  of  the  'coon,  or  the  call  and  clang  of  wild 
geese  and  ducks,  or  the  war-cry  of  savage  tribes,  is 
this  true  ;  but  not  true  in  the  same  sense  of  domesti- 
cated or  semi-domesticated  animals  and  fowls.  How 
different  the  voice  of  the  common  duck  or  goose  from 
that  of  the  wild  species,  or  of  the  tame  dove  from 
that  of  the  turtle  of  the  fields  and  groves.  Where 
could  the  English  house-sparrow  have  acquired  that 
unmusical  voice  but  amid  the  sounds  of  hoofs  and 
wheels,  and  the  discords  of  the  street.  And  the  or- 
dinary notes  and  calls  of  so  many  of  the  British  birds, 
according  to  their  biographers,  are  harsh  and  disa- 
greeable ;  even  the  nightingale  has  an  ugly,  guttural 
"  chuck."  The  missel-thrush  has  a  harsh  scream ; 
the  jay  a  note  like  "  wrack,"  "  wrack " ;  the  field- 
fare a  rasping  chatter  ;  the  blackbird,  which  is  our 
robin  cut  in  ebony,  will  sometimes  crow  like  a  cock 
and  cackle  like  a  hen ;  the  flocks  of  starlings  make 
a  noise  like  a  steam  saw-mill ;  the  whitethroat  has 
a  disagreeable  note  ;  the  swift  a  discordant  scream ; 
and  the  bunting  a  harsh  song.  Among  our  song- 
birds, on  the  contrary,  it  is  rare  to  hear  a  harsh  or 
displeasing  voice.  Even  their  notes  of  anger  and 
*Jarm  are  more  or  less  soft. 


BIRDS   AND   BIRDS.  151 

I  would  not  imply  that  our  birds  are  the  better 
songsters  ;  but  that  their  songs,  if  briefer  and  fee- 
bler, are  also  more  wild  and  plaintive,  —  in  fact,  that 
they  are  softer-voiced.  The  British  birds,  as  I  have 
stated,  are  more  domestic  than  ours  ;  a  much  larger 
number  build  about  houses  and  towers  and  out-build- 
ings. The  titmouse  with  us  is  exclusively  a  wood- 
bird  ;  but  in  Britain  three  or  four  species  of  them 
resort  more  or  less  to  buildings  in  winter.  Their  red- 
start also  builds  under  the  eaves  of  houses ;  their 
starling  in  church  steeples  and  in  holes  in  walls  ; 
several  thrushes  resort  to  sheds  to  nest,  and  jackdaws 
breed  in  the  crannies  of  the  old  architecture,  and  this 
in  a  much  milder  climate  than  our  own. 

They  have  in  that  country  no  birds  that  answer  to 
our  tiny  lisping  wopd- warblers  —  genus  Dendroica, 
nor  to  our  vireos,  Vireonidce.  On  the  other  hand, 
they  have  a  larger  number  of  field-birds  and  semi- 
game  birds.  They  have  several  species  like  our 
robin ;  thrushes  like  him  and  some  of  them  larger,  as 
the  ring-ouzel,  the  missel-thrush,  the  field-fare,  the 
throstle,  the  red-wing,  White's  thrush,  the  blackbird, 
• — these,  besides  several  species  in  size  and  habits 
more  like  our  wood- thrush. 

Ssveral  species  of  European  birds  sing  at  night 
besides  the  true  nightingale  —  not  fitfully  and  as  if 
in  their  dreams,  as  do  a  few  of  our  birds,  but  con- 
tinuously. They  make  a  business  of  it.  The  sedge- 
bird  ceases  at  times  as  if  from  very  weariness  ;  but 
wake  the  bird  up,  says  White,  by  throwing  a  stick 


152  ,        BIEDS  AND   BIRDS. 

or  stone  into  the  bushes,  and  away  it  goes  again  iu 
full  song.  We  have  but  one  real  nocturnal  songster, 
and  that  is  the  mocking-bird.  One  can  see  how  this 
habit  might  increase  among  the  birds  of  a  long-set- 
tled country  like  England.  With  sounds  and  voices 
about  them,  why  should  they  be  silent  too?  The 
danger  of  betraying  themselves  to  their  natural  ene- 
mies would  be  less  than  in  our  woods. 

That  their  birds  are  more  quarrelsome  and  pugna- 
cious than  ours  I  think  evident.  Our  thrushes  are 
especially  mild-mannered,  but  the  missel-thrush  is 
very  bold  and  saucy,  and  has  been  known  to  fly  in 
the  face  of  persons  who  have  disturbed  the  sitting 
bird.  No  jay  nor  magpie  nor  crow  can  stand  before 
him.  The  Welsh  call  him  master  of  the  coppice, 
and  he  welcomes  a  storm  with  such  a  vigorous  and 
hearty  song  that  in  some  countries  he  is  known  as 
storm-cock.  He  sometimes  kills  the  young  of  other 
birds  and  eats  eggs,  —  a  very  unthrushlike  trait. 
The  whitethroat  sings  with  crest  erect,  and  attitudes 
of  warning  and  defiance.  The  hooper  is  a  great 
bully ;  so  is  the  greenfinch.  The  wood-grouse  — 
now  extinct  I  believe  —  has  been  known  to  attack 
people  in  the  woods.  And  behold  the  grit  and  hard- 
ihood of  that  little  emigrant  or  exile  to  our  shores, 
the  English  sparrow.  Our  birds  have  their  tilts  and 
spats  also ;  but  the  only  really  quarrelsome  members 
in  our  family  are  confined  to  the  fly-catchers,  —  as 
the  kingbird,  and  great-crested  fly-catcher.  None  o 
mr  song-birds  are  bullies. 


BIRDS   AND   BIRDSk    L  '    153 

?^J^Li£C 

Many  of  our  more  vigorous  species,  a^  the  butcher* 

bird,  the  cross-bills,  the  pine  grosbeak,  the  red-pole, 
the  Bohemian  chatterer,  the  shore-lark,  the  long- 
spur,  the  snow-bunting,  etc.,  are  common  to  both 
continents. 

Have  the  Old  World  creatures  throughout  more 

.  x 
pluck  and  hardihood  than  those  that  are  indigenous 

to  this  continent  ?  Behold  the  common  mouse,  how 
he  has  followed  man  to  this  country  and  established 
himself  here  against  all  opposition,  overrunning  our 
houses  and  barns,  while  the  native  species  is  rarely 
seen.  And  when  has  anybody  seen  the  American 
rat,  while  his  congener  from  across  the  water  has 
penetrated  to  every  part  of  the  continent !  By  the 
next  train  that  takes  the  family  to  some  Western 
frontier,  arrives  this  pest.  Both  our  rat  and  mouse 
or  mice  are  timid,  harmless,  delicate  creatures,  com- 
pared with  the  cunning,  filthy,  and  prolific  specimens 
that  have  fought  their  way  to  us  from  the  Old  World. 
There  is  little  doubt,  also,  that  the  red  fox  has  been 
transplanted  to  this  country  from  Europe.  He  is 
certainly  on  the  increase,  and  is  fast  running  out  the 
native  gray  species. 

Indeed,  I  have  thought  that  all  forms  of  life  in  the 
Old  World  were  marked  by  greater  prominence  of 
type,  or  stronger  characteristic  and  fundamental  qual- 
ities, than  with  us,  —  coarser  and  more  hairy  and 
yirile,  and  therefore  more  powerful  and  lasting.  This 
opinion  is  still  subject  to  revision,  but  I  find  it  easiei 
*)  confirm  it  than  to  undermine  it. 


154  BIRDS   AND  BIRDS. 

IV. 

But  let  me  change  the  strain  and  contemplate  for 
a  few  moments  this  feathered  bandit,  —  this  bird 
with  the  mark  of  Cain  upon  him — Collyris  borealis, — 
the  great  shrike  or  butcher-bird.  Usually,  the  char- 
acter of  a  bird  of  prey  is  well  defined ;  there  is  no 
mistaking  him.  His  claws,  his  beak,  his  head,  his 
wings,  in  fact  his  whole  build  point  to  the  fact  that 
he  subsists  upon  live  creatures ;  he  is  armed  to  catch 
them  and  to  slay  them.  Every  bird  knows  a  hawk 
and  knows  him  from  the  start,  and  is  on  the  lookout 
for  him.  The  hawk  takes  life,  but  he  does  it  to 
maintain  his  own,  and  it  is  a  public  and  universally 
known  fact.  Nature  has  sent  him  abroad  in  that 
character  and  has  advised  all  creatures  of  it.  Not  so 
with  the  shrike ;  here  she  has  concealed  the  charac- 
ter of  a  murderer  under  a  form  as  innocent  as  that 
of  the  robin.  Feet,  wings,  tail,  color,  head,  and  gen- 
eral form  and  size  are  all  those  of  a  song-bird  — 

o 

very  much  like  that  master  songster,  the  mocking- 
bird —  yet  this  bird  is  a  regular  Bluebeard  among  its 
kind.  Its  only  characteristic  feature  is  its  beak,  the 
upper  mandible  having  two  sharp  processes  and  a 
sharp  hooked  point.  It  cannot  fly  away  to  any  dis- 
tance with  the  bird  it  kills  nor  hold  it  in  its  claws  to 
feed  upon  it.  It  usually  impales  its  victim  upon  a 
thorn  or  thrusts  it  in  the  fork  of  a  limb.  For  thr 
most  part,  however,  its  food  seems  to  consist  of  in 
lects  —  spiders,  grasshoppers,  beetles,  etc.  It  is  the 


BIRDS   AND   BIRDS.  155 

issassin  of  the  small  birds,  whom  it  often  destroys  in 
pure  wantonness,  or  merely  to  sup  on  their  brains,  as 
the  Gaucho  slaughters  a  wild  cow  or  bull  for  its 
tongue.  It  is  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing.  Appar- 
ently its  victims  are  unacquainted  with  its  true  char- 
acter and  allow  it  to  approach  them,  when  the  fatal 
blow  is  given.  I  saw  an  illustration  of  this  the  other 
day.  A  large  number  of  goldfinches  in  their  full 
plumage,  together  with  snow-birds  and  sparrows,  were 
feeding  and  chattering  in  some  low  bushes  back  of 
the  barn.  I  had  paused  by  the  fence  and  was  peep- 
ing through  at  them,  hoping  to  get  a  glimpse  of  that 
rare  sparrow,  the  white-crowned.  Presently  I  heard 
a  rustling  among  the  dry  leaves  as  if  some  larger 
bird  was  also  among  them.  Then  I  heard  one  of  the 
goldfinches  cry  out  as  if  in  distress,  when  the  whole 
flock  of  them  started  up  in  alarm  and,  circling 
around,  settled  in  the  tops  of  the  larger  trees.  I 
continued  my  scrutiny  of  the  bushes,  when  I  saw  a 
large  bird,  with  some  object  in  its  beak,  hopping 
along  on  a  low  branch  near  the  ground.  It  disap- 
peared from  my  sight  for  a  few  moments,  then  came 
up  through  the  undergrowth  into  the  top  of  a  young 
maple  where  some  of  the  finches  had  alighted,  and  I 
beheld  the  shrike.  The  little  birds  avoided  him  and 
flew  about  the  tree,  their  pursuer  following  them 
with  the  motions  of  his  head  and  body  as  if  he 
would  fain  arrest  them  by  his  murderous  gaze.  The 
birds  did  not  utter  the  cry  or  make  the  demonstration 
&f  alarm  they  usually  do  on  the  appearance  of  a 


156  BIRDS  AND   BIRDS. 

hawk,  but  chirruped  and  called  and  flew  about  in  a 
half-wondering,  half-bewildered  manner.  As  they 
flew  farther  along  the  line  of  trees  the  shrike  fol- 
lowed them  as  if  bent  on  further  captures.  I  then 
made  my  way  around  to  see  what  the  shrike  had 
caught  and  what  he  had  done  with  his  prey.  As  I 
approached  the  bushes  I  saw  the  shrike  hastening 
back.  I  read  his  intentions  at  once.  Seeing  my 
movements,  he  had  returned  for  his  game.  But  I 
was  too  quick  for  him,  and  he  got  up  out  of  the 
brush  and  flew  away  from  the  locality.  On  some 
twigs  in  the  thickest  part  of  the  bushes  I  found  his 
victim  —  a  goldfinch.  It  was  not  impaled  upon  a 
thorn,  but  was  carefully  disposed  upon  some  hori- 
zontal twigs  —  laid  upon  the  shelf,  so  to  speak.  It 
was  as  warm  as  in  life  and  its  plumage  was  unruffled. 
On  examining  it  I  found  a  large  bruise  or  break  in 
the  skin,  on  the  back  of  the  neck  at  the  base  of  the 
skull.  Here  the  bandit  had  no  doubt  griped  the  bird 
with  his  strong  beak.  The  shrike's  bloodthirstiness 
was  seen  in  the  fact  that  it  did  not  stop  to  devour  its 
prey  but  went  in  quest  of  more,  as  iikopening  a  mar- 
ket of  goldfinches.  The  thicket  was  his  shambles, 
and  if  not  interrupted  he  might  have  had  a  fine  dis- 
play of  tidbits  in  a  short  time. 

The  shrike  is  called  a  butcher  from  his  habit  of 
sticking  his  meat  upon  hooks  and  points ;  further 
than  that  he  is  a  butcher  because  he  devours  but  a 
•rifle  of  what  he  slays. 

A  few  days  before,  I  had  witnessed  another  little 


BIRDS   AND   BIRDS.  157 

scene  in  which  the  shrike  was  the  chief  actor.  A 
chipmunk  had  his  den  in  the  side  of  the  terrace  above 
the  garden,  and  spent  the  mornings  laying  in  a  store 
of  corn  which  he  stole  from  a  field  ten  or  twelve 
rods  away.  In  traversing  about  half  this  distance, 
the  little  poacher  was  exposed ;  the  first  cover  go- 
ing from  his  den  was  a  large  maple,  where  he  al- 
ways brought  up  and  took  a  survey  of  the  scene. 
I  would  see  him  spinning  along  toward  the  maple, 
then  from  it  by  an  easy  stage  to  the  fence  adjoining 
the  corn ;  then  back  again  with  his  booty.  One 
morning  I  paused  to  watch  him  more  at  my  leisure. 
He  came  up  out  of  his  retreat  and  cocked  himself  up 
to  see  what  my  motions  meant.  His  fore  paws  were 
clasped  to  his  breast  precisely  as  if  they  had  been 
hands,  and  the  tips  of  the  fingers  thrust  into  his  vest 
pockets.  Having  satisfied  himself  with  reference  to 
me,  he  sped  on  toward  the  tree.  He  had  nearly 
reached  it,  when  he  turned  tail  arid  rushed  for  his 
hole  with  the  greatest  precipitation.  As  he  neared 
it,  I  saw  some  bluish  object  in  the  air  closing  in  upon 
him  with  the  speed  of  an  arrow,  and  as  he  vanished 
within,  a  shrike  brought  up  in  front  of  the  spot,  and 
with  spread  wings  and  tail  stood  hovering  a  moment, 
and,  looking  in,  then  turned  and  went  away.  Appar- 
ently it  was  a  narrow  escape  for  the  chipmunk,  and, 
I  venture  to  say,  he  stole  no  more  corn  that  morning. 
The  shrike  is  said  to  catch  mice,  but  it  is  not  known 
to  attack  squirrels.  He  certainly  could  not  have 
strangled  the  chipmunk,  and  I  am  curious  to  kno\f 


158  BIRDS   AND   BIRDS. 

what  would  have  been  the  result  had  he  overtaken 
him.  Probably  it  was  only  a  kind  of  brag  on  the 
part  of  the  bird,  —  a  bold  dash  where  no  risk  was 
run.  He  simulated  the  hawk,  the  squirrel's  real 
enemy,  and  no  doubt  enjoyed  the  joke. 

On  another  occasion,  as  I  was  riding  along  a  mount- 
ain road  early  in  April,  a  bird  started  from  the  fence 
where  I  was  passing,  and  flew  heavily  to  the  branch 
of  a  near  apple-tree.  It  proved  to  be  a  shrike  with 
a  small  bird  in  his  beak.  He  thrust  his  victim  into  a 
fork  of  a  branch,  then  wiped  his  bloody  beak  upon 
the  bark.  A  youth  who  was  with  me,  to  whom  I 
pointed  out  the  fact,  had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing, 
and  was  much  incensed  at  the  shrike.  "  Let  me  fire 
a  stone  at  him,"  said  he,  and  jumping  out  of  the 
wagon  he  pulled  off  his  mittens,  and  fumbled  about 
for  a  stone.  Having  found  one  to  his  liking,  with 
great  earnestness  and  deliberation  he  let  drive.  The 
bird  was  in  more  danger  than  I  had  imagined,  for  he 
escaped  only  by  a  hair's  breadth  ;  a  guiltless  bird  like 
the  robin  or  sparrow  would  surely  have  been  slain ; 
*.he  missile  grazed  the  spot  where  the  shrike  sat,  and 
cut  the  ends  of  his  wings  as  he  darted  behind  the 
branch.  We  could  see  that  the  murdered  bird  had 
been  brained,  as  its  head  hung  down  toward  us. 

The  shrike  is  not  a  summer  bird  with  us  in  the 
Northern  States,  but.  mainly  a  fall  and  winter  one 
<n  summer  he  goes  farther  north.  I  see  him  mosl 
frequently  in  November  and  December.  I  recall  a 
morning  during  the  former  month  that  was  singularly 


BIRDS  AND   BIRDS.  159 

clear  and  motionless  ;  the  air  was  like  a  great  drum. 
Apparently  every  sound  within  the  compass  of  the 
horizon  was  distinctly  heard.  The  explosions  back 
in  the  cement  quarries  ten  miles  away  smote  the 
hollow  and  reverberating  air  like  giant  fists.  Just 
as  the  sun  first  showed  his  fiery  brow  above  the 
horizon,  a  gun  was  discharged  over  the  river.  On 
the  instant,  a  shrike,  perched  on  the  topmost  spray  of 
a  maple  above  the  house,  set  up  a  loud,  harsh  call  or 
whistle,  suggestive  of  certain  notes  of  the  bluejay. 
The  note  presently  became  a  crude,  broken  warble. 
Even  this  scalper  of  the  innocents  had  music  in  his 
soul  on  such  a  morning.  He  saluted  the  sun  as  a 
robin  might  have  done.  After  he  had  finished  he 
flew  away  toward  the  east. 

The  shrike  is  a  citizen  of  the  world,  being  found 
in  both  hemispheres.  It  does  not  appear  that  the 
European  species  differs  essentially  from  our  own. 
In  Germany  he  is  called  the  nine-killer,  from  the 
belief  that  he  kills  and  sticks  upon  thorns  nine  grass- 
hoppers a  day. 

To  make  my  portrait  of  the  shrike  more  complete 
I  will  add  another  trait  of  him  described  by  an  acute 
observer  who  writes  me  from  western  New  York. 
He  saw  the  bird  on  a  bright  mid-winter  morning 
when  the  thermometer  stood  at  zero,  and  by  cautious 
approaches  succeeded  in  getting  under  the  apple-tree 
upon  which  he  was  perched.  The  shrike  was  utter- 
ing a  loud,  clear  note  like  clu-eet,  clu-eet,  clu-eet,  and 
on  finding  he  had  a  listener  who  was  attentive  and  . 


160  BIRDS   AND   BIRDS. 

curious,  varied  his  performance  and  kept  it  up  con- 
tinuously for  fifteen  minutes.  He  seemed  to  enjoy 
having  a  spectator,  and  never  took  his  eye  off  him. 
The  observer  approached  within  twenty  feet  of  him. 
"  As  I  came  near,"  he  says,  "  the  shrike  began  to 
scold  at  me,  a  sharp,  buzzing,  squeaking  sound  not 
easy  to  describe.  After  a  little  he  came  out  on  the 
end  of  the  limb  nearest  me,  then  he  posed  himself,  and 
opening  his  wings  a  little,  began  to  trill  and  warble 
under  his  breath,  as  it  were,  with  an  occasional 
squeak,  and  vibrating  his  half-open  wings  in  time  with 
his  song."  Some  of  his  notes  resembled  those  of  the 
bluebird  and  the  whole  performance  is  described  as 
pleasing  and  melodious. 

This  account  agrees  with  Thoreau's  observation, 
where  he  speaks  of  the  shrike  "with  heedless  and 
unfrozen  melody  bringing  back  summer  again." 
Sings  Thoreau :  — 

"  His  steady  sails  he  never  furls 

At  anj-  time  o'  year, 
And  perching  now  on  winter's  curls, 
He  whistles  in  his  ear." 

But  his  voice  is  that  of  a  savage  —  strident  and  dis- 
agreeable. 

I  have  often  wondered  how  this  bird  was  kept  in 
check  ;  in  the  struggle  for  existence  it  would  appear 
to  have  greatly  the  advantage  of  other  birds.  It 
cannot,  for  instance,  be  beset  with  one  tenth  of  the 
dangers  that  threaten  the  robin,  and  yet  apparently 
there  are  a  thousand  robins  to  every  shrike.  Il 


BIRDS   AND   BIRDS.  161 

builds  a  warm,  compact  nest  in  the  mountains  and 
dense  woods,  and  lays  six  eggs,  which  would  indicate 
a  rapid  increase.  The  pigeon  lays  but  two  eggs,  and 
is  preyed  upon  by  both  man  and  beast,  millions  of 
them  meeting  a  murderous  death  every  year ;  yet 
always  some  part  of  the  country  is  swarming  with 
untold  numbers  of  them.  But  the  shrike  is  one  of 
our  rarest  birds.  I  myself  seldom  see  more  than 
two  each  year,  and  before  I  became  an  observer  of 
birds  I  never  saw  any. 

In  size  the  shrike  is  a  little  inferior  to  the  blue- 
jay,  with  much  the  same  form.  If  you  see  an  un- 
known bird  about  your  orchard  or  fields  in  November 
or  December  of  a  bluish  grayish  complexion,  with 
dusky  wings  and  tail  that  show  markings  of  white, 
flying  rather  heavily  from  point  to  point,  or  alighting 
down  •  in  the  stubble  occasionally,  it  is  pretty  sure  to 

be  the  shrike. 

v. 

Nature  never  tires  of  repeating  and  multiplying 
the  same  species.  She  makes  a  million  bees,  a  mill- 
ion birds,  a  million  mice,  or  rats,  or  other  animals,  so 
nearly  alike  that  no  eye  can  tell  one  from  another ; 
but  it  is  rarely  that  she  issues  a  small  and  a  large  edi- 
tion, as  it  were,  of  the  same  species.  Yet  she  has 
done  it  in  a  few  cases  among  the  birds  with  hardly 
more  difference  than  a  foot-note  added  or  omitted. 
The  cedar-bird,  for  instance,  is  the  Bohemian  wax- 
wing  or  chatterer  in  smaller  type,  copied  even  to  the 
minute,  wax-like  appendages  that  bedeck  the  ends  of 
11 


162  BIRDS  AND   BIRDS. 

the  wing-quills.  It  is  about  one  third  smaller,  and  a 
little  lighter  in  color,  owing  perhaps  to  the  fact  that 
it  is  confined  to  a  warmer  latitude,  its  northward 
range  seeming  to  end  about  where  that  of  its  larger 
brother  begins.  Its  flight,  its  note,  its  manners,  its 
general  character  and  habits  are  almost  identical 
with  those  of  its  prototype.  It  is  confined  exclu- 
sively to  this  continent,  while  the  chatterer  is  an  Old 
World  bird  as  well,  and  ranges  the  northern  parts  of 
both  continents.  The  latter  comes  to  us  from  the 
hyperborean  regions,  brought  down  occasionally  by 
the  great  cold  waves  that  originate  in  those  high 
latitudes.  It  is  a  bird  of  Siberian  and  Alaskan  ever- 
greens, and  passes  its  life  for  the  most  part  far  be 
yond  the  haunts  of  man.  I  have  never  seen  the 
bird,  but  small  bands  of  them  make  excursions  every 
winter  down  into  our  territory  from  British  America. 
Audubon,  I  believe,  saw  them  in  Maine ;  other  ob- 
servers have  seen  them  in  Minnesota.  It  has  the 
crest  of  the  cedar-bird,  the  same  yellow  border  to  its 
tail,  but  is  marked  with  white  on  its  wings,  as  if  a 
snow-flake  or  two  had  adhered  to  it  from  the  north- 
ern cedars  and  pines.  If  you  see  about  the  ever- 
greens in  the  coldest,  snowiest  weather  what  appear 
to  be  a  number  of  very  large  cherry-birds,  observe 
them  well,  for  the  chances  are  that  visitants  from 
the  circumpolar  regions  are  before  your  door.  It  is 
a  sign  also  that  the  frost  legions  of  the  north  are  ou* 
in  great  force  and  carrying  all  before  them. 

Our  cedar  or  cherry-bird  is  the  most  silent  birc* 


BIRDS   AND   BIRDS.  163 

we  have.  Our  neutral-tinted  birds,  like  him,  as  a 
rule,  are  our  finest  songsters ;  but  he  has  no  song  or 
call,  uttering » only  a  fine  bead-like  note  on  taking 
flight  This  note  is  the  cedar-berry  rendered  back  in 
sound.  When  the  ox-heart  cherries,  which  he  has 
only  recently  become  acquainted  with,  have  had  time 
to  enlarge  his  pipe  and  warm  his  heart,  I  shall  ex 
pect  more  music  from  him.  But  in  lieu  of  music, 
what  a  pretty  compensation  are  those  minute,  almost 
artificial-like,  plumes  of  orange  and  vermilion  that 
tip  the  ends  of  his  primaries.  Nature  could  not  give 
him  these  and  a  song  too.  She  has  given  the  hum- 
ming-bird a  jewel  upon  his  throat,  but  no  song,  save 
the  hum  of  his  wings. 

Another  bird  that  is  occasionally  borne  to  us  on 
the  crest  of  the  cold  waves  from  the  frozen  zone, 
and  that  is  repeated  on  a  smaller  scale  in  a  permanent 
resident,  is  the  pine  grosbeak ;  his  alter  ego,  reduced 
in  size,  is  the  purple  finch,  which  abounds  in  the 
higher  latitudes  of  the  temperate  zone.  The  color 
and  form  of  the  two  birds  are  again  essentially  the 
same.  The  females  and  young  males  of  both  species 
are  of  a  grayish-brown  like  the  sparrow,  while  in  the 
old  males  this  tint  is  imperfectly  hidden  beneath  a 
coat  of  carmine,  as  if  the  color  had  been  poured  upon 
their  heads,  where  it  is  strongest,  and  so  oozed  down 
and  through  the  rest  of  the  plumage.  Their  tails 
are  considerably  forked,  their  beaks  cone-shaped  and 
heavy,  and  their  flight  undulating.  Those  who  have 
Veard  the  grosbeak,  describe  its  song  as  similar  to 


164  BIRDS  AND   BIRDS. 

that  of  the  finch,  though  no  doubt  it  is  louder  and 
stronger.  The  finch's  instrument  is  a  fife  tuned  to 
love  and  not  to  war.  He  blows  a  clear,  round  note, 
rapid  and  intricate,  but  full  of  sweetness  and  melody. 
His  hardier  relative  with  that  larger  beak  and  deepei 
chest  must  fill  the  woods  with  sounds.  Audubon 
describes  its  song  as  exceedingly  rich  and  full. 

As  in  the  case  of  the  Bohemian  wax-wing,  this 
bird  is  also  common  to  both  worlds,  being  found 
through  Northern  Europe  and  Asia  and  the  northern 
parts  of  this  continent.  It  is  the  pet  of  the  pine-tree 
and  one  of  its  brightest  denizens.  Its  visits  to  the 
States  are  irregular  and  somewhat  mysterious.  A 
great  flight  of  them  occurred  in  the  winter  of  1874— 
75.  They  attracted  attention  all  over  the  country. 
Several  other  flights  of  them  have  occurred  during 
the  century.  When  this  bird  comes,  it  is  so  unac- 
quainted with  man  that  its  tameness  is  delightful  to 
behold.  It  thrives  remarkably  well  in  captivity,  and 
in  a  couple  of  weeks  will  become  so  tame  that  it  will 
hop  down  and  feed  out  of  its  master's  or  mistress's 
hand.  It  comes  from  far  beyond  the  region  of  the 
apple,  yet  it  takes  at  once  to  this  fruit,  or  rather  to 
the  seeds,  which  it  is  quick  to  divine,  at  its  core. 

Close  akin  to  these  two  birds,  and  standing  in  the 
same  relation  to  each  other,  are  two  other  birds  that 
come  to  us  from  the  opposite  zone,  —  the  torrid,  — » 
lamely,  the  blue  grosbeak  and  his  petit  duplicate, 
the  indigo-bird.  The  latter  is  a  common  summer 
.  resident  with  us,  —  a  bird  of  the  groves  and  bushy 
ftelds,  where  his  bright  song  may  be  heard  all  througt 


BIRDS  AND  BIRDS.  165 

the  long  summer  day.  I  hear  it  in  the  dry  and 
parched  August  when  most  birds  are  silent,  sometimes 
delivered  on  the  wing  and  sometimes  from  the  perch. 
Indeed,  with  me  its  song  is  as  much  a  midsummer 
sound  as  is  the  brassy  crescendo  of  the  cicada.  The 
memory  of  its  note  calls  to  mind  the  flame-like  quiver 
of  the  heated  atmosphere  and  the  bright  glare  of  the 
meridian  sun.  Its  color  is  much  more  intense  than 
that  of  the  common  bluebird,  as  summer  skies  are 
deeper  than  those  of  April,  but  its  note  is  less  mellow 
and  tender.  Its  original,  the  blue  grosbeak,  is  an  un- 
certain wanderer  from  the  south,  as  the  pine  gros- 
beak is  from  the  north.  I  have  never  seen  it  north 
of  the  District  of  Columbia.  It  has  a  loud,  vivacious 
song,  of  which  it  is  not  stingy,  and  which  is  a  large 
and  free  rendering  of  the  indigo's,  and  belongs  to 
summer  more  than  to  spring.  The  bird  is  colored 
the  same  as  its  lesser  brother,  the  males  being  a  deep 
blue  and  the  females  a  modest  drab.  Its  nest  is  usu- 
ally placed  low  down,  as  is  the  indigo's,  and  the  male 
carols  from  the  tops  of  the  trees  in  its  vicinity  in  the 
same  manner.  Indeed,  the  two  birds  are  strikingly 
alike  in  every  respect  except  in  size  and  in  habitat, 
and,  as  in  each  of  the  other  cases,  the  lesser  bird  is, 
as  it  were,  the  point,  the  continuation,  of  the  larger, 
carrying  its  form  and  voice  forward  as  the  reverbera- 
tion carries  the  sound. 

I  know  the  ornithologists,  with  their  hair-split- 
tings, or,  rather,  feather-splittings,  point  out  many 
differences,  but  they  are  unimportant.  The  fractions 
not  agree,  but  the  whole  numbers  are  the  same. 


OP  BOUGHS. 


A  BED  OF  BOUGHS. 

WHEN  Aaron  came  again  to  camp  and  tramp  with 
me,  or,  as  he  wrote,  "  to  eat  locusts  and  wild  honey 
with  me  in  the  wilderness,"  it  was  past  the  middle 
of  August,  and  the  festival  of  the  season  neared  its 
close.  We  were  belated  guests,  but  perhaps  all  the 
more  eager  on  that  account,  especially  as  the  coun- 
try was  suffering  from  a  terrible  drought,  and  the 
only  promise  of  anything  fresh  or  tonic  or  cool  was 
in  primitive  woods  and  mountain  passes. 

"  Now,  my  friend,"  said  I,  "•  we  can  go  to  Canada, 
or  to  the  Maine  woods,  or  to  the  Adirondacks,  and 
thus  have  a  whole  loaf  and  a  big  loaf  of  this  bread 
which  you  know  as  well  as  I  will  have  heavy  streaks 
in  it,  and  will  not  be  uniformly  sweet ;  or  we  can 
seek  nearer  woods,  and  content  ourselves  with  one 
week  instead  of  four,  with  the  prospect  of  a  keen 
relish  to  the  last.  Four  sylvan  weeks  sound  well, 
but  the  poetry  is  mainly  confined  to  the  first  one. 
We  can  take  another  slice  or  two  of  the  Catskills, 
?an  we  not,  without  being  sated  with  kills  and  divid- 
jog  ridges  ?  " 


170  A   BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

"  Anywhere,"  replied  Aaron,  "  so  that  we  have  a 
good  tramp  and  plenty  of  primitive  woods.  No 
doubt  we  should  find  good  browsing  on  Peakamoose, 
and  trout  enough  in  the  streams  at  its  base." 

o 

So  without  further  ado  we  made  ready,  and  in  due 
time  found  ourselves,  with  our  packs  on  our  backs, 
entering  upon  a  pass  in  the  mountains  that  led  to  the 
valley  of  the  Rondout. 

The  scenery  was  wild  and  desolate  in  the  extreme, 
the  mountains  on  either  hand  looking  as  if  they  had 
been  swept  by  a  tornado  of  stone.  Stone  avalanches 
hung  suspended  on  their  sides  or  had  shot  down  into 
the  chasm  below.  It  was  a  kind  of  Alpine  scenery 
where  crushed  and  broken  bowlders  covered  the 
earth  instead  of  snow. 

In  the  depressions  in  the  mountains  the  rocky 
fragments  seemed  to  have  accumulated  and  to  have 
formed  what  might  be  called  stone  glaciers  that  were 
creeping  slowly  down. 

Two  hours'  march  brought  us  into  heavy  timber 
where  the  stone  cataclysm  had  not  reached,  and  be- 
iore  long  the  soft  voice  of  the  Rondout  was  heard  in 
the  gulf  below  us.  We  paused  at  a  spring  run,  and 
I  followed  it  a  few  yards  down  its  mountain  stair- 
way, carpeted  with  black  moss,  and  had  my  first 
glimpse  of  the  unknown  stream.  I  stood  upon  rocks 
and  looked  many  feet  down  into  a  still,  sunlit  pool 
and  saw  the  trout  disporting  themselves  in  the  trans- 
parent water,  and  I  was  ready  to  encamp  at  once 
but  my  companion,  who  had  not  been  tempted  by  the 


A  BED   OF  BOUGHS.  171 

View,  insisted  upon  holding  to  our  original  purpose, 
which  was  to  go  farther  up  the  stream.  We  passed 
a  clearing  with  three  or  four  houses  and  a  saw-mill. 
The  dam  of  the  latter  was  filled  with  such  clear  water 
that  it  seemed  very  shallow,  and  not  ten  or  twelve 
feet  deep,  as  it  really  was.  The  fish  were  as  conspic- 
uous as  if  they  had  been  in  a  pail. 

Two  miles  farther  up  we  suited  ourselves  and  went 
into  camp. 

If  there  ever  was  a  stream  cradled  in  the  rocks, 
detained  lovingly  by  them,  held  and  fondled  in  a 
rocky  lap  or  tossed  in  rocky  arms,  that  stream  is  the 
Rondout.  Its  course  for  several  miles  from  its  head 
is  over  the  stratified  rock,  and  into  this  it  has  worn  a 
channel  that  presents  most  striking  and  peculiar  feat- 
ures. Now  it  comes  silently  along  on  the  top  of  the 
rock,  spread  out  and  flowing  over  that  thick,  dark- 
green  moss  that  is  found  only  in  the  coldest  streams  ; 
then  drawn  into  a  narrow  canal  only  four  or  five  feet 
wide,  through  which  it  shoots,  black  and  rigid,  to  be 
presently  caught  in  a  deep  basin  with  shelving,  over- 
hanging rocks,  beneath  which  the  phcebe-bird  builds 
hi  security  and  upon  which  the  fisherman  stands  and 
casts  his  twenty  or  thirty  feet  of  line  without  fear  of 
being  thwarted  by  the  brush  ;  then  into  a  black,  well- 
like  pool,  ten  or  fifteen  feet  deep,  with  a  smooth, 
circular  wall  of  rock  on  one  side  worn  by  the  water 
through  long  ages,  or  else  into  a  deep,  oblong  pocket, 
'tntc  which  and  out  of  which  the  water  glides  without 
*  ripple. 


172  A  BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

The  surface  rock  is  a  coarse  sandstone  superin- 
cumbent upon  a  lighter-colored  conglomerate  that 
looked  like  Shawangunk  grits,  and  when  this  latter 
is  reached  by  the  water  it  seems  to  be  rapidly  disin- 
tegrated by  it,  thus  forming  the  deep  excavations  al- 
luded to. 

My  eyes  had  never  before  beheld  such  beauty  in 
a  mountain  stream.  The  water  was  almost  as  trans- 
parent as  the  air  —  was,  indeed  like  liquid  air ;  and 
as  it  lay  in  these  wells  and  pits  enveloped  in  shadow, 
or  lit  up  by  a  chance  ray  of  the  vertical  sun,  it  was 
a  perpetual  feast  to  the  eye,  —  so  cool,  so  deep,  so 
pure  ;  every  reach  and  pool  like  a  vast  spring.  You 
lay  down  and  drank  or  dipped  the  water  up  in  your 
cup  and  found  it  just  the  right  degree  of  refreshing 
coldness.  One  is  never  prepared  for  the  clearness 
of  the  water  in  these  streams.  It  is  always  a  sur- 
prise. See  them  every  year  for  a  dozen  years,  and 
yet,  when  you  first  come  upon  one,  you  will  utter  an 
exclamation  ;  I  saw  nothing  like  it  in  the  Adiron- 
dacks,  nor  in  Canada.  Absolutely  without  stain  or 
hint  of  impurity,  it  seems  to  magnify  like  a  lens,  so 
that  the  bed  of  the  stream  and  the  fish  in  it  appear 
deceptively  near.  It  is  rare  to  find  even  a  trout- 
stream  that  is  not  a  little  "  off  color,"  as  they  say  of 
diamonds,  but  the  waters  in  the  section  of  which  I 
am  writing  have  the  genuine  ray;  it  is  the  undimmed 
and  untarnished  diamond. 

If  I  were  a  trout,  I  should  ascend  every  stream  tiL 
I  found  the  Rondout.  It  is  the  ideal  brook.  Wha> 


A  BED   OF  BOUGHS. 


homes  these  fish  have,  what  retreats  under  the  rocks, 
what  paved  or  flagged  courts  and  areas,  what  crystal 
depths  whera  no  net  or  snare  can  reach  them  ! — no 
mud,  no  sediment,  but  here  and  there  in  the  clefts 
and  seams  of  the  rock  patches  of  white  gravel, — • 
spawning  beds  ready-made. 

The  finishing  touch  is  given  by  the  moss  with 
which  the  rock  is  everywhere  carpeted.  Even  in  the 
narrow  grooves  or  channels  where  the  water  runs  the 
swiftest,  the  green  lining  is  unbroken.  It  sweeps 
down  under  the  stream  and  up  again  on  the  other 
side  like  some  firmly-woven  texture.  It  softens  every 
outline  and  cushions  every  stone.  At  a  certain  depth 
in  the  great  basins  and  wells  it  of  course  ceases,  and 
only  the  smooth,  swept  flagging  of  the  place-rock  is 
visible. 

The  trees  are  kept  well  back  from  the  margin  of 
the  stream  by  the  want  of  soil,  and  the  large  ones 
unite  their  branches  far  above  it,  thus  forming  a  high 
winding  gallery,  along  which  the  fisherman  passes 
and  makes  his  long  casts  with  scarcely  an  interrup- 
tion from  branch  or  twig.  In  a  few  places  he  makes 
i.o  cast,  but  sees  from  his  rocky  perch  the  water 
twenty  feet  below  him,  and  drops  his  hook  into  it  a? 
into  a  well. 

We  made  camp  at  a  bend  in  the  creek  where 
there  was  a  large  surface  of  mossy  rock  uncovered 
by  the  shrunken  stream  —  a  clean,  free  space  left  foi 
as  in  the  wilderness  that  was  faultless  as  a  kitchen 
and  dining-room,  and  a  marvel  of  beauty  as  a  loung 


174  A   BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

ing-room,  or  an  open  court,  or  what  you  will.  An 
obsolete  wood  or  bark  road  conducted  us  to  it,  and 
disappeared  up  the  hill  in  the  woods  beyond.  A  loose 
bowlder  lay  in  the  middle,  and  on  the  edge  next  the 
stream  were  three  or  four  large  natural  wash-basins 
scooped  out  of  the  rock,  and  ever  filled  ready  for  use. 
Our  lair  we  carved  out  of  the  thick  brush  under  a 
large  birch  on  the  bank.  Here  we  planted  our  flag 
of  smoke  and  feathered  our  nest  with  balsam  and 
hemlock  boughs  and  ferns,  and  laughed  at  your  four 
walls  and  pillows  of  down. 

Wherever  one  encamps  in  the  woods  there  is  home, 
and  every  object  and  feature  about  the  place  take  on 
a  new  interest  and  assume  a  near  and  friendly  relation 
to  one. 

We  were  at  the  head  of  the  best  fishing.  There 
was  an  old  bark  clearing  not  far  off  which  afforded 
us  a  daily  dessert  of  most  delicious  blackberries,  — 
,%n  important  item  in  the  woods,  —  and  then  all  the 
features  of  the  place  —  a  sort  of  cave  above  ground 
—  were  of  the  right  kind. 

There  was  not  a  mosquito,  or  gnat,  or  other  pest  in 
the  woods,  the  cool  nights  having  already  cut  them 
off.  The  trout  were  sufficiently  abundant,  and  af- 
forded us  a  few  hours'  sport  daily  to  supply  our 
wants.  The  only  drawback  was,  that  they  were  out 
of  season,  and  only  palatable  to  a  woodman's  keen 
appetite.  What  is  this  about  trout-spawning  in  Oc- 
tober and  November,  and  in  some  cases  not  tiL 
March?  These  trout  had  all  spawned  in  August 


A  BED  OF   BOUGHS.  175 

every  one  of  them.  The  coldness  and  purity  of  the 
water  evidently  made  them  that  much  earlier.  The 
game  laws  of^  the  State  protect  the  fish  after  Septem- 
ber first,  proceeding  upon  the  theory  that  its  spawn- 
ing season  is  later  than  that,  —  as  it  is  in  many  cases, 
but  not  in  all,  as  we  found  out. 

The  fish  are  small  in  these  streams,  seldom  weigh- 
ing over  a  few  ounces.  Occasionally  a  large  one  is 
seen  of  a  pound  or  pound  and  a  half  weight.  I  re- 
member one  such,  as  black  as  night,  that  ran  under 
a  black  rock.  But  I  remember  much  more  distinctly 
a  still  larger  one  that  I  caught  and  lost  one  eventful 
day. 

I  had  him  on  my  hook  ten  minutes,  and  actually 
got  my  thumb  in  his  mouth,  and  yet  he  escaped. 

It  was  only  the  over-eagerness  of  the  sportsman,  I 
imagined  I  could  hold  him  by  the  teeth. 

The  place  where  I  struck  him  was  a  deep  well- 
hole  and  I  was  perched  upon  a  log  that  spanned  it 
ten  or  twelve  feet  above  the  water.  The  situation 
was  all  the  more  interesting  because  I  saw  no  pos- 
sible way  to  land  my  fish;  I  could  not  lead  him 
ashore,  and  my  frail  tackle  could  not  be  trusted  to 
ift  him  sheer  from  that  pit  to  my  precarious  perch ; 
what  should  I  do?  call  for  help?  but  no  help  wa* 
near.  I  had  a  revolver  in  my  pocket  and  might 
have  shot  him  through  and  through,  but  that  novel 
proceeding  did  not  occur  tc  me  until  it  was  too  late. 
I  would  have  taken  a  Sam  Patch  leap  into  the  water 
wid  have  wrestled  with  my  antagonist  in  his  own 


176  A   BED    OF   BOUGHS. 

element,  but  I  knew  the  slack,  thus  sure  to  occur, 
would  probably  free  him ;  so  I  peered  down  upon  the 
beautiful  creature  and  enjoyed  my  triumph  as  far  as 
it  went.  lie  was  caught  very  lightly  through  his 
upper  jaw  and  I  expected  every  struggle  and  somer- 
sault would  break  the  hold ;  presently  I  saw  a  place 
in  the  rocks  where  I  thought  it  possible,  with  such 
an  incentive,  to  get  down  within  reach  of  the  water , 
by  careful  manoeuvring  I  slipped  my  pole  behind  me 
and  got  hold  of  the  line,  which  I  cut  and  wound 
around  my  finger ;  then  I  made  my  way  toward  the 
end  of  the  log  and  the  place  in  the  rocks,  leading  my 
fish  along  much  exhausted  on  the  top  of  the  water. 
By  an  effort  worthy  the  occasion  I  got  down  within 
reach  of  the  fish,  and,  as  I  have  already  confessed, 
thrust  my  thumb  into  his  mouth  and  pinched  his 
cheek;  he  made  a  spring  and  was  free  from  my 
hand  and  the  hook  at  the  same  time ;  for  a  moment 
he  lay  panting  on  the  top  of  the  water,  then,  recover- 
ing himself  slowly,  made  his  way  down  through  the 
clear,  cruel  element  beyond  all  hope  of  recapture. 
My  blind  impulse  to  follow  and  try  to  seize  him  was 
very  strong,  but  I  kept  my  hold  and  peered  and  peered 
long  after  the  fish  was  lost  to  view,  then  looked  my 
mortification  in  the  face  and  laughed  a  bitter  laugh. 

"  But,  hang  it !  I  had  all  the  fun  of  catching  the 
fish,  and  only  miss  the  pleasure  of  eating  him,  which 
at  this  time  would  not  be  great." 

"  The  fun,  I  take  it,"  said  my  soldier,  "  is  in  tri 
amphing  and  not  in  being  beaten  at  the  last." 


A   BED    OF    BOUGHS.  177 

"Well,  have  it  so;  but  I  would  not  exchange 
those  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  with  that  trout  for  the 
tame  two  hours  you  have  spent  in  catching  that  string 
of  thirty.  To  see  a  big  fish  after  days  of  small  fry  is 
an  event ;  to  have  a  jump  from  one  is  a  glimpse  of 
the  sportsman's  paradise ;  and  to  hook  one  and  actu- 
ally have  him  under  your  control  for  ten  minutes,  — 
why,  that  is  the  paradise  itself  as  long  as  it  lasts." 

One  day  I  went  down  to  the  house  of  a  settler  a 
mile  below,  and  engaged  the  good  dame  to  make  us 
a  couple  of  loaves  of  bread,  and  in  the  evening  we 
went  down  after  them.  How  elastic  and  exhilarating 
the  walk  was  through  the  cool,  transparent  shadows ! 
The  SUD  was  gilding  the  mountains  and  its  yellow 
light  seemed  to  be  reflected  through  all  the  woods. 
At  one  point  we  looked  through  and  along  a  valley 
of  deep  shadow  upon  a  broad  sweep  of  mountain 
quite  near  and  densely  clothed  with  woods,  flooded 
from  base  to  summit  by  the  setting  sun.  It  was  a 
wild,  memorable  scene.  What  power  and  effective- 
ness in  Nature,  I  thought,  and  how  rarely  an  artist 
catches  her  touch !  Looking  down  upon  or  squarely 
into  a  mountain  covered  with  a  heavy  growth  of 
birch  and  maple  and  shone  upon  by  the  sun,  is  a 
sight  peculiarly  agreeable  to  me.  How  closely  the 
swelling  umbrageous  heads  ?f  the  trees  fit  together, 
and  how  the  eye  revels  in  the  flowing  and  easy  uni- 
formity while  the  mind  feels  the  ruggedness  and  ter- 
nble  power  beneath ! 
12 


178  A   BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

As  we  came  back  the  light  yet  lingered  on  the  top 
of  Slide  Mountain. 

"The  last  that  parleys  with  the  setting  sun," 

said  I,  quoting  Wordsworth. 

"  That  line  is  almost  Shakespearean,"  said  my 
companion.  "  It  suggests  that  great  hand  at  least, 
though  it  has  not  the  grit  and  virility  of  the  more 
primitive  bard.  What  triumph  and  fresh  morning 
power  in  Shakespeare's  lines  that  will  occur  to  us  at 

sunrise  to-morrow !  — 

"  '  And  jocund  day 
Stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain  tops.' 

Or  in  this  :  — 

"  '  Full  many  a  glorious  morning  have  I  seen, 
Flatter  the  mountain  tops  with  sovran  eye.' 

There  is  savage,  perennial  beauty  there,  the  quality 
that  Wordsworth  and  nearly  all  the  modern  poets 
lack." 

"  But  Wordsworth  is  the  poet  of  the  mountains," 
said  I,  "  and  of  lonely  peaks.  True,  he  does  not 
express  the  power  and  aboriginal  grace  there  is  in 
them,  nor  toy  with  them  and  pluck  them  up  by  the 
hair  of  their  heads  as  Shakespeare  does.  There  is 
something  in  Peakamoose  yonder,  as  we  see  it  from 
this  point,  cutting  the  blue  vault  with  its  dark,  ser- 
rated edge,  not  in  the  bard  of  Grasmere  ;  but  he  ex- 
presses the  feeling  of  loneliness  and  insignificance 
that  the  cultivated  man  has  in  the  presence  of  mount- 
ains, and  the  burden  of  solemn  emotion  they  give 


A  BED   OF   BOUGHS.  179 

rise  to.  Then  there  is  something  much  more  wild 
and  merciless,  much  more  remote  from  human  inter- 
ests and  ends,  jn  our  long,  high,  wooded  ranges  than 
is  expressed  by  the  peaks  and  scarred  groups  of  the 
lake  country  of  Britain.  These  mountains  we  be- 
hold and  cross  are  not  picturesque,  —  they  are  wild 
and  inhuman  as  the  sea.  In  them  you  are  in  a  maze, 
in  a  weltering  world  of  woods ;  you  can  see  neither 
the  earth  nor  the  sky,  but  a  confusion  of  the  growth 
and  decay  of  centuries,  and  must  traverse  them  by 
your  compass  or  your  science  of  wood-craft,  —  a  rift 
through  the  trees  giving  one  a  glimpse  of  the  oppo- 
site range  or  of  the  valley  beneath,  and  he  is  more  at 
sea  than  ever ;  one  does  not  know  his  own  farm  or 
settlement  when  framed  in  these  mountain  tree-tops  ; 
all  look  alike  unfamiliar." 

Not  the  least  of  the  charm  of  camping  out  is  your 
camp-fire  at  night.  What  an  artist !  What  pictures 
are  boldly  thrown  or-  faintly  outlined  upon  the  can- 
vas of  the  night!  Every  object,  every  attitude  of 
your  companion  is  striking  and  memorable.  You 
see  effects  and  groups  every  moment  that  you  would 
give  money  to  be  able  to  carry  away  with  you  in  en- 
during form.  How  the  shadows  leap,  and  skulk,  and 
hover  about !  Light  and  darkness  are  in  perpetual 
tilt  and  warfare,  with  first  the  one  unhorsed,  then 
the  other.  The  friendly  and  cheering  fire,  what  ac- 
quaintance we  make  with  it !  We  had  almost  for- 
gotten there  was  such  an  element,  we  had  so  long 
known  only  its  dark  offspring,  heat.  Now  we  see 


180  A   BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

the  wild  beauty  uncaged  and  note  its  manner  and 
temper.  How  surely  it  creates  its  own  draft  and 
sets  the  currents  going,  as  force  and  enthusiasm 
always  will !  It  carves  itself  a  chimney  out  of  the 
fluid  and  houseless  air.  A  friend,  a  ministering  an- 
gel in  subjection;  a  fiend,  a  fury,  a  monster,  ready 
to  devour  the  world,  if  ungoverned.  By  day  it  bur- 
rows in  the  ashes  and  sleeps  ;  at  night  it  comes  forth 
and  sits  upon  its  throne  of  rude  logs,  and  rules  the 
camp  a  sovereign  queen. 

Near  camp  stood  a  tall,  ragged  yellow  birch,  its 
partially  cast-off  bark  hanging  in  crisp  sheets  or 
dense  rolls. 

"  That  tree  needs  the  barber,"  we  said,  "  and  shall 
have  a  call  from  him  to-night." 

So  after  dark  I  touched  a  match  into  it  and  we 
saw  the  flames  creep  up  and  wax  in  fury  until  the 
whole  tree  and  its  main  branches  stood  wrapped  in  a 
sheet  of  roaring  flame.  It  was  a  wild  and  striking 
spectacle,  and  must  have  advertised  our  camp  to 
every  nocturnal  creature  in  the  forest. 

What  does  the  camper  think  about  when  lounging 
around  the  fire  at  night  ?  Not  much,  —  of  the  sport 
of  the  day,  of  the  big  fish  he  lost  and  might  have 
saved,  of  the  distant  settlement,  of  to-morrow's  plans. 
An  owl  hoots  off  in  the  mountain  and  he  thinks  of 
him  ;  if  a  wolf  were  to  howl  or  a  panther  to  scream 
he  would  think  of  him  the  rest  of  the  night.  As  it 
is,  things  flicker  and  hover  through  his  mind,  and  he 
hardly  knows  whether  it  is  the  past  or  the  present 


A  BED   OF   BOUGHS.  181 

that  possesses  him.  Certain  it  is  he  feels  the  hush 
and  solitude  of  the  great  forest,  and  whether  he  will 
or  not  all  his  musings  are  in  some  way  cast  upon 
that  huge  background  of  the  night.  Unless  he  is  an 
old  camper- out  there  will  be  an  under-current  of 
dread  or  half  fear.  My  companion  said  he  could  not 
help  but  feel  all  the  time  that  there  ought  to  be  a 
sentinel  out  there  pacing  up  and  down.  One  seems 
to  require  less  sleep  in  the  woods,  as  if  the  ground 
and  the  un tempered  air  rested  and  refreshed  him 
sooner.  The  balsam  and  the  hemlock  heal  his  aches 
very  quickly.  If  one  is  awakened  often  during  the 
night,  as  he  invariably  is,  he  does  not  feel  that  sedi- 
ment of  sleep  in  his  mind  next  day  that  he  does 
when  the  same  interruption  occurs  at  home ;  the 
boughs  have  drawn  it  all  out  of  him. 

And  it  is  wonderful  how  rarely  any  of  the  housed 
and  tender  white  man's  colds  or  influenzas  come 
through  these  open  doors  and  windows  of  the  woods. 
It  is  our  partial  isolation  from  Nature  that  is  dan- 
gerous ;  throw  yourself  unreservedly  upon  her  and 
she  rarely  betrays  you. 

If  one  takes  anything  to  the  woods  to  read  he  sel- 
dom reads  it ;  it  does  not  taste  good  with  such  primi- 
tive air. 

There  'are  very  few  camp  poems  that  I  know  of, 
poems  that  would  be  at  home  with  one  on  such  an 
expedition  ;  there  is  plenty  that  is  weird  and  spectral, 
as  in  Poe,  but  little  that  is  woody  and  wild  as  this 
icene  is.  I  recall  a  Canadian  poem  by  the  late  C. 


182  A  BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

D.  Shanly,  —  the  only  one  I  believe  the  author  ever 
wrote,  —  that  fits  well  the  distended  pupil  of  the 
mind's  eye  about  the  camp-fire  at  night.  It  was 
printed  many  years  ago  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly, 
and  is  called  '  The  Walker  of  the  Snow ; '  it  begins 
thus :  — 

"  *  Speed  on,  speed  on,  good  master; 

The  camp  lies  far  away  ; 
We  must  cross  the  haunted  valley 
Before  the  close  of  day.'  " 

"  That  has  a  Canadian  sound,"  said  Aaron ;  '<  give 
us  more  of  it." 

"  'How  the  snow-blight  came  upon  me 

I  will  tell  you  as  we  go,  — 
The  blight  of  the  shadow  hunter 
"Who  walks  the  midnight  snow.' 

And  so  on.  The  intent  seems  to  be  to  personify  the 
fearful  cold  that  overtakes  and  benumbs  the  traveler 
in  the  great  Canadian  forests  in  winter.  This  stanza 
brings  out  the  silence  or  desolation  of  the  scene  very 
effectively,  —  a  scene  without  sound  or  motion,  — 

"  *  Save  the  wailing  of  the  moos-bird 

With  a  plaintive  note  and  low ; 
And  the  skating  of  the  red  feaf 
Upon  the  frozen  snow.' 

*  The  rest  of  the  poem  runs  thus :  — 

"  *  And  said  I —  Though  dark  is  falling, 

And  far  the  camp  must  be, 
Yet  my  heart  it  would  be  lightsome 
If  I  had  but  company. 


A  BED   OF  BOUGHS.  183 

**  'And  then  I  sang  and  shouted, 

Keeping  measure  as  I  sped, 
To  the  harp-twang  of  the  snow-shoe 
"As  it  sprang  beneath  my  tread. 

44  *  Nor  far  into  the  valley 

Had  I  dipped  upon  my  way, 
When  a  dusky  figure  joined  me 
In  a  capuchin  of  gray, 

"  'Bending  upon  the  snow-shoes 

With  a  long  and  limber  stride; 
And  I  hailed  the  dusky  stranger, 
As  we  traveled  side  by  side. 

44 '  But  no  token  of  communion 
Gave  he  by  word  or  look, 
And  the  fear-chill  fell  upon  me 
At  the  crossing  of  the  brook. 

44  *  For  I  saw  by  the  sickly  moonlight, 

As  I  followed,  bending  low, 
That  the  walking  of  the  stranger 
Left  no  foot-marks  on  the  snow. 

44  '  Then  the  fear-chill  gathered  o'er  me, 

Like  a  shroud  around  me  cast, 
As  I  sank  upon  the  snow-drift 
Where  the  shadow  hunter  passed. 

44  'And  the  otter-trappers  found  me, 

Before  the  break  of  day, 
With  my  dark  hair  blanched  and  whitened 
As  the  snow  in  which  I  lay. 

44  'But  they  spoke  not  a;  they  raised  me; 

For  they  knew  that  in  the  night 
I  had  seen  the  shadow  hunter 
And  had  withered  in  his  sight. 


184  A   BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

"  '  Sancta  Maria  speed  us  ! 
The  sun  is  fallen  low: 
Before  us  lies  the  valley 
Of  the  Walker  of  the  Snow  ! ' " 

"  All !  "  exclaimed  my  companion.  "  Let  us  pile 
on  more  of  those  dry  birch-logs  ;  I  feel  both  the 
*  fear-chill '  and  the  <  cold-chill '  creeping  over  me. 
How  far  is  it  to  the  valley  of  the  Neversink  ?  " 
"  About  three  or  four  hours'  march,  the  man  said/' 
"  I  hope  we  have  no  haunted  valleys  to  cross." 
"None,"  said  I,  "but  we  pass  an  old  log-cabin 
about  which  there  hangs  a  ghostly  superstition.  At 
a  certain  hour  in  the  night,  during  the  time  the  bark 
is  loose  on  the  hemlock,  a  female  form  is  said  to 
steal  from  it  and  grope  its  way  into  the  wilderness. 
The  tradition  runs  that  her  lover,  who  was  a  bark- 
peeler  and  wielded  the  spud,  was  killed  by  his  rival, 
who  felled  a  tree  upon  him  while  they  were  at  work. 
The  girl,  who  Lelped  her  mother  cook  for  the 
'  hands '  was  crazed  by  the  shock,  and  that  night 
stole  forth  into  the  woods  and  was  never  seen  or 
heard  of  more.  There  are  old  hunters  who  aver 
that  her  cry  may  still  be  heard  at  night  at  the  head 
of  the  valley  whenever  a  tree  falls  in  the  stillness  of 
the  forest." 

"  Well,  I  heard  a  tree  fall  not  ten  minutes  ago,'* 
said  Aaron  ;  "  a  distant  rushing  sound  with  a  sub- 
iued  crash  at  the  end  of  it,  and  the  only  answering 
cry  I  heard  was  the  shrill  voice  of  the  screech-ow* 
off  yonder  against  the  mountain.  But  may  be  ;4 


A  BED  OF  BOUGHS.          185 

was  not  an  owl,"  said  he  after  a  moment;  "let  us 
help  the  legend  along  by  believing  it  was  the  voice 
of  the  lost  maiden." 

"  By  the  way,"  continued  he,  "  do  you  remember 
the  pretty  creature  we  saw  seven  years  ago  in  the 
shanty  on  the  "West  Branch,  who  was  really  help- 
ing her  mother  cook  for  the  hands,  a  slip  of  a  girl 
twelve  or  thirteen  years  old,  with  eyes  as  beautiful 
and  bewitching  as  the  waters  that  flowed  by  her 
cabin  ?  I  was  wrapped  in  admiration  till  she  spoke  : 
then  how  the  spell  was  broken  !  Such  a  voice !  It 
was  like  the  sound  of  pots  and  pans  when  you  ex- 
pected to  hear  a  lute." 

The  next  day  we  bade  farewell  to  the  Rondout, 
and  set  out  to  cross  the  mountain  to  the  east  branch 
of  the  Beaverkill. 

"  We  shall  find  tame  waters  compared  with  these, 
I  fear,  —  a  shriveled  stream  brawling  along  over 
loose  stone,  with  few  pools  or  deep  places." 

Our  course  was  along  the  trail  of  the  barkmen 
who  had  pursued  the  doomed  hemlock  to  the  last 
tree  at  the  head  of  the  valley.  As  we  passed  along, 
a  red  steer  stepped  out  of  the  bushes  into  the  road 
ahead  of  us  where  the  sunshine  fell  full  upon  him, 
and  with  a  half -scared,  beautiful  look  begged  alms 
of  salt.  We  passed  the  Haunted  Shanty  ;  but  both 
't  and  the  legend  about  it  looked  very  tame  at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  After  the  road  had  faded 

o 

out  we  took  to  the  bed  of  the  stream  to  avoid  the 
gauntlet  of  the  underbrush,  skipping  up  the  mount' 


186  A   BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

ain  from  bowlder  to  bowlder.  Up  and  up  we  went, 
with  frequent  pauses  and  copious  quaffing  of  the 
cold  water.  My  soldier  declared  a  "haunted  val- 
ley "  would  be  a  god-send ;  anything  but  endless 
dragging  of  one's  self  up  such  an  Alpine  stair-way. 
The  winter-wren,  common  all  through  the  woods, 
peeped  and  scolded  at  us  as  we  sat  blowing  near  the 
summit,  and  the  oven-bird,  not  quite  sure  as  to  what 
manner  of  creatures  we  were,  hopped  down  a  limb 
to  within  a  few  feet  of  us  and  had  a  good  look,  then 
darted  off  into  the  woods  to  tell  the  news.  I  also 
noted  the  Canada  warbler,  the  chestnut-sided  warbler, 
and  the  black-throated  blue-back,  —  the  latter  most 
abundant  of  all.  Up  these  mountain  brooks,  too, 
goes  the  belted  kingfisher,  swooping  around  through 
the  woods  when  he  spies  the  fisherman^  then  wheel- 
ing into  the  open  space  of  the  stream  and  literally- 
making  a  "  blue  streak  "  down  under  the  branches. 

At  last  the  stream  which  had  been  our  guide  was 
lost  under  the  rocks,  and  before  long  the  top  was 
gained.  These  mountains  are  horse-shaped.  There 
is  always  a  broad,  smooth  back  more  or  less  depressed, 
which  the  hunter  aims  to  bestride ;  rising  :-apidly 
from  this  is  pretty  sure  to  be  a  rough,  curving  ridge 
that  carries  the  forest  up  to  some  highest  peak.  "We 
were  lucky  in  hitting  the  saddle,  but  we  could  see  a 
little  to  the  south  the  sharp,  steep  neck  of  the  steed 
sweeping  up  toward  the  sky  with  an  erect  mane  of 
balsam  fir. 

Theso  mountains  are  steed-like  in  other  respects 


A  BED   OF  BOUGHS.  187 

any  timid  and  vacillating  course  with  them  is  sure  to 
get  you  into  trouble.  One  must  strike  out  boldly 
and  not  be  Disturbed  by  the  curveting  and  shying ; 
the  valley  you  want  lies  squarely  behind  them,  but 
farther  off  than  you  think,  and  if  you  do  not  go  for 
it  resolutely  you  will  get  bewildered  and  the  mount- 
ain will  play  you  a  trick. 

I  may  say  that  Aaron  and  I  kept  a  tight  rein  and 
a  good  pace  till  we  struck  a  watercourse  on  the  other 
side,  and  that  we  clattered  down  it  with  no  want  of 
decision  till  it  emptied  into  a  larger  stream  which  we 
knew  must  be  the  East  Branch.  An  abandoned  fish- 
pole  lay  on  the  stones,  marking  the  farthest  point 
reached  by  some  fisherman.  According  to  our  reck- 
oning, we  were  five  or  six  miles  above  the  settlement, 
with  a  good  depth  of  primitive  woods  all  about  us. 

We  kept  on  down  the  stream,  now  and  then  paus- 
ing at  a  likely  place  to  take  some  trout  for  dinner, 
and  with  an  eye  out  for  a  good  camping-ground. 
Many  of  the  trout  were  full  of  ripe  spawn  and  a 
few  had  spawned,  the  season  with  them  being  a  little 
later  than  on  the  stream  we  had  left,  perhaps,  be- 
cause the  water  was  less  cold.  Neither  had  the 
creek  here  any  such  eventful  and  startling  career. 
It  led,  indeed,  quite  a  humdrum  sort  of  life  under 
the  roots  and  fallen  tree-tops  and  among  the  loose 
stones.  At  rare  intervals  it  beamed  upon  us  from 
some  still  reach  or  dark  cover,  and  won  from  us  our 
best  attention  in  return. 

The  day  was  quite  spent  before  we  had  pitched 


188  A   BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

our  air-woven  tent  and  prepared  our  dinner,  and  we 
gathered  boughs  for  our  bed  in  the  gloaming.  Break- 
fast had  to  be  caught  in  the  morning  and  was  not 
served  early,  so  that  it  was  nine  o'clock  before  we 
were  in  motion.  A  little  bird,  the  red-eyed  vireo,  war- 
bled most  cheerily  in  the  trees  above  our  camp,  and, 
as  Aaron  said,  "  gave  us  a  good  send-off."  We  kept 
down  the  stream,  following  the  inevitable  bark  road. 

My  companion  had  refused  to  look  at  another  "  di- 
viding ridge  "  that  had  neither  path  nor  way,  and 
henceforth  I  must  keep  to  the  open  road  or  travel 
alone.  Two  hours'  tramp  brought  us  to  an  old  clear- 
ing with  some  rude,  tumble-down  log-buildings  that 
many  years  before  had  been  occupied  by  the  bark  and 
lumber  men.  The  prospect  for  trout  was  so  good  in 
the  stream  hereabouts,  and  the  scene  so  peaceful  and 
inviting,  shone  upon  by  the  dreamy  August  sun,  that 
we  concluded  to  tarry  here  until  the  next  day.  It 
was  a  page  of  pioneer  history  opened  to  quite  unex- 
pectedly. A  dim  footpath  led  us  a  few  yards  to  a 
superb  spring,  in  which  a  trout  from  the  near  creek 
had  taken  up  his  abode.  We  took  possession  of  what 
had  been  a  shingle  shop,  attracted  by  its  huge  fire- 
place. We  floored  it  with  balsam  boughs,  hung  its 
walls  with  our  "traps,"  and  sent  the  smoke  curling 
again  from  its  disused  chimney. 

The  most  musical  and  startling  sound  we  heard  in 
the  woods  greeted  our  ears  that  evening  about  sun 
down  as  we  sat  on  a  log  in  front  of  our  quarters,  — * 
ihe  sound  of  slow,  measured  uounding  in  the  valley 


A  BED   OF   BOUGHS.  189 

below  us.  We  did  not  know  how  near  we  were  to 
human  habitations,  and  the  report  of  the  lumber- 
man's mallet,  like  the  hammering  of  a  great  wood- 
pecker, was  music  to  the  ear  and  news  to  the  mind. 
The  air  was  still  and  dense,  and  the  silence  such  as 
alone  broods  over  these  little  openings  in  the  primi- 
tive woods.  My  soldier  started  as  if  he  had  heard  a 
signal-gun.  The  sound,  coming  so  far  through  the 
forest,  sweeping  over  those  great  wind-harps  of  trees, 
became  wild  and  legendary,  though  probably  made 
by  a  lumberman  driving  a  wedge  or  working  about 
his  mill. 

We  expected  a  friendly  visit  from  porcupines  that 
night,  as  we  saw  where  they  had  freshly  gnawed  all 
about  us  ;  hence,  when  a  red  squirrel  came  and  looked 
in  upon  us  very  early  in  the  morning  and  awoke  us 
by  his  snickering  and  giggling,  my  comrade  cried 
out,  "There  is  your  porcupig."  How  the  frisking 
red  rogue  seemed  to  enjoy  what  he  had  found.  He 
looked  in  at  the  door  and  snickered,  then  in  at  the 
windtfw,  then  peeked  down  from  between  the  raft- 
ers and  cachinnated  till  his  sides  must  have  ached; 
then  struck  an  attitude  upon  the  chimney  and  fairly 
squealed  with  mirth  and  ridicule.  In  fact  he  grew 
so  obstreperous  and  so  disturbed  our  repose  that  we 
had  to  "  shoo  "  him  away  with  one  of  our  boots.  He 
Declared  most  plainly  that  he  had  never  before  seen 
BO  preposterous  a  figure  as  we  cut  lying  there  in  the 
corner  of  that  old  shanty. 

The  morning  boded  rain,  the  week  to  which  wa 


190  A  BED  OF  BOUGHS. 

had  limited  ourselves  drew  near  its  close,  and  we 
concluded  to  finish  our  holiday  worthily  by  a  good 
square  tramp  to  the  railroad  station,  twenty-three 
miles  distant,  as  it  proved.  Two  miles  brought  us 
to  stumpy  fields  and  to  the  house  of  the  upper  in- 
habitant. They  told  us  there  was  a  short  cut  across 
the  mountain,  but  my  soldier  shook  his  head. 

"  Better  twenty  miles  of  Europe,"  said  he,  getting 
Tennyson  a  little  mixed,  "  than  one  of  Cathay,  or 
Slide  Mountain  either." 

Drops  of  the  much-needed  rain  began  to  come 
down  and  I  hesitated  in  front  of  the  wood-shed. 

"  Sprinkling  weather  always  comes  to  some  bad 
end,"  said  Aaron,  with  a  reminiscence  of  an  old 
couplet  in  his  mind,  and  so  it  proved,  for  it  did  not 
get  beyond  a  sprinkle,  and  the  sun  shone  out  before 
noon. 

In  the  next  woods  I  picked  up  from  the  middle  of 
the  road  the  tail  and  one  hind  leg  of  one  of  our  native 
rats,  the  first  I  had  ever  seen  except  in  a  museum. 
An  owl  or  fox  had  doubtless  left  it  the  night  before. 
It  was  evident  the  fragments  had  once  formed  part  of 
a  very  elegant  and  slender  creature.  The  fur  that 
remained  (for  it  was  not  hair)  was  tipped  with  red. 
My  reader  doubtless  knows  that  the  common  rat  is 
an  importation,  and  that  there  is  a  native  American 
rat,  usually  found  much  farther  south  than  the  local- 
ity of  which  I  am  writing,  that  lives  in  the  woods  — 
a  sylvan  rat,  very  wild  and  nocturnal  in  his  habits, 
and  seldom  seen  even  by  hunters  or  woodmen.  Its 


A   BED    OF   BOUGHS.   V\"    ~          191 

eyes  are  large  and  fine,  and  its  form  slender.  It 
looks  like  only  a  far-off  undegenerate  cousin  of  the 
filthy  creature  that  has  come  to  us  from  the  long- 
peopled  Old  World.  Some  creature  ran  between  my 
feet  and  the  fire  toward  morning,  the  last  night  we 
slept  in  the  woods,  and  I  have  little  doubt  it  was  one 
of  these  wood-rats. 

The  people  in  these  back  settlements  are  almost  as 
shy  and  furtive  as  the  animals.  Even  the  men  look 
a  little  scared  when  you  stop  them  by  your  questions. 
The  children  dart  behind  their  parents  when  you 
look  at  them.  As  we  sat  on  a  bridge,  resting,  —  for 
our  packs  still  weighed  fifteen  or  twenty  pounds  each, 
—  two  women  passed  us  with  pails  on  their  arms, 
going  for  blackberries.  They  filed  by  with  their  eye* 
down  like  two  abashed  nuns. 

In  due  time  we  found  an  old  road,  to  which  w^ 
had  been  directed,  that  led  over  the  mountain  to  the 
West  Branch.  It  was  a  hard  pull,  sweetened  by 
blackberries  and  a  fine  prospect.  The  snow-bird  was 
common  along  the  way,  and  a  solitary  wild  pigeon 
shot  through  the  woods  in  front  of  us,  recalling  the 
nests  we  had  seen  on  the  East  Branch  —  little  scaf- 
foldings of  twigs  scattered  all  through  the  trees. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  we  struck  the  West 
Branch  and  the  sun  was  scalding  hot.  We  knew  that 
two  arid  three  pound  trout  had  been  taken  there,  and 
yet  we  wet  not  a  line  in  its  waters.  The  scene  was 
primitive,  and  carried  one  back  to  the  days  of  his 
grandfather,  stumpy  fields,  log-fences,  log-houses  and 


192  A  BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

barns.  A  boy  twelve  or  thirteen  years  old  came  out 
of  a  house  ahead  of  us  eating  a  piece  of  bread  and- 
butter.  We  soon  overtook  him  and  held  converse 
with  him.  He  knew  the  land  well,  and  what  there 
was  in  the  woods  and  the  waters.  He  had  walked 
out  to  the  railroad  station,  fourteen  miles  distant,  to 
see  the  cars,  and  back  the  same  day.  I  asked  him 
about  the  flies  and  mosquitoes,  etc.  He  said  they 
were  all  gone  except  the  "  blunder-heads ; "  there 
were  some  of  them  left  yet. 

"  "What  are  blunder-heads  ?  "  I  inquired,  sniffing 
new  game. 

"  The  pesky  little  fly  that  gets  into  your  eye  when 
you  are  a-fishing." 

Ah,  yes  !  I  knew  him  well.  We  had  got  acquainted 
some  days  before,  and  I  thanked  the  boy  for  the 
name.  It  is  an  insect  that  hovers  before  your  eye 
as  you  thread  the  streams,  and  you  are  forever 
vaguely  brushing  at  it  under  the  delusion  that  it  is  a 
little  spider  suspended  from  your  hat-brim,  and  just 
as  you  want  to  see  clearest,  into  your  eye  it  goes, 
head  and  ears,  and  is  caught  between  the  lids.  You 
miss  your  cast,  but  you  catch  a  "  blunder-head." 

We  paused  under  a  bridge  at  the  mouth  of  Biscuit 
Brook  and  ate  our  lunch,  and  I  can  recommend  it  to 
be  as  good  a  wayside  inn  as  the  pedestrian  need  look 
for.  Better  bread  and  milk  than  we  had  there  I 
never  expect  to  find.  The  milk  was  indeed  so  good 
that  Aaron  went  down  to  the  little  log-house  under 
the  hill  a  mile  farther  on  and  asked  for  more ;  and 


A   BED    OF   BOUGHS.  193 

being  told  they  had  no  cow,  he  lingered  five  minutes 
on  the  door-stone  with  his  sooty  pail  in  his  hand, 
putting  idle  questions  about  the  way  and  distance, 
etc.,  to  the  mother  while  he  refreshed  himself  with 
the  sight  of  a  well-dressed  and  comely-looking  young 
girl,  her  daughter. 

"  I  got  no  milk,"  said  he,  hurrying  on  after  me, 
"  but  I  got  something  better,  only  I  cannot  divide  it." 

"  I  know  what  it  is/'  replied  I ;  "I  heard  her 
voice." 

"  Yes,  and  it  was  a  good  one,  too.  The  sweetest 
sound  I  ever  heard,"  he  went  on,  "  was  a  girl's  voice 
after  I  had  been  four  years  in  the  army,  and  by  Jove, 
if  I  did  n't  experience  something  of  the  same  pleas- 
ure in  hearing  this  young  girl  speak  after  a  week  in 
the  woods.  She  had  evidently  been  out  in  the  world 
and  was  home  on  a  visit.  It  was  a  different  look  she 
gave  me  from  that  of  the  natives.  This  is  better  than 
fishing  for  trout,"  said  he.  "  You  drop  in  at  the  next 
house." 

But  the  next  house  looked  too  unpromising. 

"There  is  no  milk  there,"  said  I,  "unless  they 
keep  a  goat." 

"  But  could  we  not,"  said  my  facetious  companion, 
"go  it  on  that?" 

A  couple  of  miles  beyond  I  stopped  at  a  house 
that  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  clapboarded, 
and  had  the  good  fortune  to  find  both  the  milk  and 
the  young  lady.  A  mother  and  her  daughter  were 
again  the  only  occupants  save  a  babe  in  the  cradle, 
13 


194  A   BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

which  the  young  woman  quickly  took  occasion  to  dis- 
claim. 

"  It  has  not  opened  its  dear  eyes  before  since  its 
mother  left.  Come  to  aunty,"  and  she  put  out  her 
hands. 

The  (laughter  filled  my  pail  and  the  mother  re- 
plenished our  stock  of  bread.  They  asked  me  to  sit 
and  cool  myself,  and  seemed  glad  of  a  stranger  to 
talk  with.  They  had  come  from  an  adjoining  county 
five  years  before,  and  had  carved  their  little  clearing 
out  of  the  solid  woods. 

"  The  men  folks,"  the  mother  said,  "  came  on 
ahead  and  built  the  house  right  among  the  big  trees," 
pointing  to  the  stumps  near  the  door. 

One  no  sooner  sets  out  with  his  pack  upon  his 
back  to  tramp  through  the  land,  than  all  objects  and 
persons  by  the  way  have  a  new  and  curious  interest 
to  him.  The  tone  of  his  entire  being  is  not  a  little 
elevated,  and  all  his  perceptions  and  susceptibilities 
quickened.  I  feel  that  some  such  statement  is  nec- 
essary to  justify  the  interest  that  I  felt  in  this  back- 
woods maiden.  A  slightly  pale  face  it  was,  strong 
i*nd  well  arched,  with  a  tender,  wistful  expression 
not  easy  to  forget. 

I  had  surely  seen  that  face  many  times  before  in 
towns  and  cities,  and  in  other  lands,  but  I  hardly  ex- 
pected to  meet  it  here  amid  the  stumps.  What  were 
the  agencies  that  had  given  it  its  fine  lines  and  its 
gracious  intelligence  amid  these  simple,  primitive 
scenes?  What  did  my  heroine  read,  or  think?  or 


A   BED   OF   BOUGHS.  195 

what  were  her  unfulfilled  destinies?  She  wore  a 
sprig  of  prince's  pine  in  her  hair,  which  gave  a  touch 
peculiarly  welcome. 

"  Pretty  loriely,"  she  said,  in  answer  to  my  inquiry ; 
"  only  an  occasional  fisherman  in  summer,  and  in 
winter  —  nobody  at  all." 

And  the  little  new  school-house  in  the  woods  far- 
ther on,  with  its  half  dozen  scholars  and  the  girlish 
face  of  the  teacher  seen  through  the  open  door  — 
nothing  less  than  the  exhilaration  of  a  journey  on 
foot  could  have  made  it  seem  the  interesting  object  it 
was.  Two  of  the  little  girls  had  been  to  the  spring 
after  a  pail  of  water  and  came  struggling  out  of  the 
woods  into  the  road  with  it  as  we  passed.  They  set 
down  their  pail  and  regarded  us  with  a  half  curious, 
half  alarmed  look. 

"  What  is  your  teacher's  name  ?  "  asked  one  of  us. 

"  Miss  Lucinde  Josephine "  began  the  red- 
haired  one,  then  hesitated,  bewildered,  when  the 
bright,  dark-eyed  one  cut  her  short  with  "  Miss 
Simms,"  and  taking  hold  of  the  pail  said,  "  Come 
on." 

"  Are  there  any  scholars  from  above  here  ?  "  I  in- 
quired. 

"  Yes,  Bobbie  and  Matie,"  and  they  hastened  to- 
ward the  door. 

We  once  more  stopped  under  a  bridge  for  refresh- 
ments, and  took  our  time,  knowing  the  train  would 
not  go  on  without  us.  By  four  o'clock  we  were 
tcross  the  mountain,  having  passed  from  the  water- 


196  A  BED   OF   BOUGHS. 

shed  of  the  Delaware  iuto  that  of  the  Hudson.  The 
next  eight  miles  we  had  a  down  grade  but  a  rough 
road,  and  during  the  Ust  half  of  it  we  had  blisters 
on  the  bottoms  of  our  feet.  It  is  one  of  the  rewards 
of  the  pedestrian,  that,  however  tired  he  may  be,  he 
is  always  more  or  less  refreshed  by  his  journey.  His 
physical  tenement  has  taken  an  airing.  His  respira- 
tion has  been  deepened,  his  circulation  quickened. 
A  good  draught  has  carried  off  the  fumes  and  the 
vapors.  One's  quality  is  intensified ;  the  color  strikes 
in.  At  noon  that  day  I  was  much  fatigued  ;  at  night 
I  was  leg-weary  and  foot-sore,  but  a  fresh,  hardy 
feeling  had  taken  possession  of  me  that  lasted  for 
weeks. 


BIRDS'-NESTING. 


BIRDS'-NESTTNG. 

BIRDS'-NESTIXG  is  by  no  means  a  failure,  even 
though  you  find  no  birds'-nests.  You  are  sure  to 
find  other  things  of  interest,  plenty  of  them.  A 
friend  of  mine  says  that,  in  his  youth,  he  used  to  go 
hunting  with  his  gun  loaded  for  wild  turkeys,  and, 
Jiough  he  frequently  saw  plenty  of  smaller  game, 
he  generally  came  home  empty-handed,  because  he 
was  loaded  only  for  turkeys.  But  the  student  of 
ornithology,  who  is  also  a  lover  of  Nature  in  all  her 
shows  and  forms,  does  not  go  out  loaded  for  turkeys 
merely,  but  for  everything  that  moves  or  grows, 
and  is  quite  sure,  therefore,  to  bag  some  game,  if 
not  with  his  gun,  then  with  his  eye,  or  his  nose,  or 
his  ear.  Even  a  crow's  nest  is  not  amiss,  or  a  den  in 
the  rocks  where  the  coons  or  the  skunks  live,  or  a 
log  where  a  partridge  drums,  or  the  partridge  him- 
self starting  up  with  spread  tail,  and  walking  a  few 
yards  in  advance  of  you  before  he  goes  humming 
through  the  woods,  or  a  woodchuck  hole,  with  well 
beaten  and  worn  entrance,  and  with  the  saplings 
gnawed  and  soiled  about  it,  or  the  strong,  fetid  smel* 


200  BltfDS'-NESTING. 

of  the  fox,  which  a  sharp  nose  detects  here  and  there, 
and  which  is  a  good  perfume  in  the  woods.  And' 
then  it  is  enough  to  come  upon  a  spring  in  the  woods 
and  stoop  down  and  drink  of  the  sweet,  cold  water, 
and  bathe  jour  hands  in  it,  or  to  walk  along  a  trout- 
brook,  which  has  absorbed  the  shadows  till  it  has  it 
self  become  but  a  denser  shade.  Then  I  am  always 
drawn  out  of  my  way  by  a  ledge  of  rocks,  and  love 
nothing  better  than  to  explore  the  caverns  and  dens, 
or  to  sit  down  under  the  overhanging  crags  and  let 
the  wild  scene  absorb  me. 

There  is  a  fascination  about  ledges !  They  are  an 
unmistakable  feature,  and  gave  emphasis  and  charac- 
ter to  the  scene.  I  feel  their  spell,  and  must  pause 
awhile.  Time,  old  as  the  hills  and  older,  looks  out 
of  their  scarred  and  weather-worn  face.  The  woods 
are  of  to-day,  but  the  ledges,  in  comparison,  are  of 
eternity.  One  pokes  about  them  as  he  would  about 
ruins,  and  with  something  of  the  same  feeling.  They 
are  ruins  of  the  fore  world.  Here  the  foundations 
of  the  hills  were  laid  ;  here  the  earth-giants  wrought 
and  builded.  They  constrain  one  to  silence  and  med- 
itation ;  the  whispering  and  rustling  trees  seem  triv- 
ial and  impertinent. 

And  then  there  are  birds'-nests  about  ledges,  too, 
exquisite  mossy  tenements,  with  white,  pebbly  eggs, 
that  I  can  never  gaze  upon  without  emotion.  The 
little  brown  bird,  the  phoebe,  looks  at  you  from  her 
niche  till  you  are  within  a  few  feet  of  her,  when  she 
darts  away.  Occasionally  you  may  find  the  nest  of 


BIRDS'-NESTING.  201 

EOine  rare  wood-warbler  forming  a  little  pocket  in 
the  apron  of  moss  that  hangs  down  over  the  damp 
rocks. 

The  sylvan  folk  seem  to  know  when  you  are  on  a 
peaceful  mission,  and  are  less  afraid  than  usual.  Did 
not  that  marmot  to-day  guess  my  errand  did  not  con- 
cern him  as  he  saw  me  approach  there  from  his  cover 
in  the  bushes  ?  But,  when  he  saw  me  pause  and 
deliberately  seat  myself  on  the  stone  wall  immedi- 
ately over  his  hole,  his  confidence  was  much  shaken. 
He  apparently  deliberated  awhile,  for  I  heard  the 
leaves  rustle  as  if  he  was  making  up  his  mind,  when 
he  suddenly  broke  cover  and  came  for  his  hole  full 
tilt.  Any  other  animal  would  have  taken  to  his  heels 
and  fled ;  but  a  woodchuck's  heels  do  not  amount  to 
much  for  speed,  and  he  feels  his  only  safety  is  in  his 
hole.  On  he  came  in  the  most  obstinate  and  deter- 
mined manner,  and  I  dare  say  if  I  had  sat  down  in 
his  hole  would  have  attacked  me  unhesitatingly.  This 
I  did  not  give  him  a  chance  to  do  ;  but,  not  to  be  en- 
tirely outdone,  attempted  to  set  my  feet  on  him  in  no 
very  gentle  manner  ;  but  he  whipped  into  his  den  be- 
neath me  with  a  defiant  snort.  Farther  on,  a  saucy 
chipmunk  presumed  upon  my  harmless  character  to 
an  unwonted  degree  also.  I  had  paused  to  bathe  my 
hands  and  face  in  a  little  trout  brook,  and  had  set  a 
lin  cup,  which  I  had  partly  filled  with  strawberries 
us  I  crossed  the  field,  on  u  stone  at  my  feet,  when 
along  came  the  chipmunk  as  confidently  as  if  he 
ki»ew  precisely  where  he  was  going,  and,  perfectly 


202  BIRDS'-NESTING. 

oblivious  of  my  presence,  cocked  himself  up  on  the 
rim  of  the  cup  and  proceeded  to  eat  my  choicest  ber- 
ries. I  remained  motionless  and  observed  him.  He 
had  eaten  but  two  when  the  thought  seemed  to  occur 
to  him  that  he  might  be  doing  better,  and  he  began 
to  fill  his  pockets.  Two,  four,  six,  eight  of  my  ber- 
ries quickly  disappeared,  and  the  cheeks  of  the  little 
vagabond  swelled.  But  all  the  time  he  kept  eating, 
that  not  a  moment  might  be  lost.  Then  he  hopped 
off  the  cup,  and  went  skipping  from  stone  to  stone 
till  the  brook  was  passed,  when  he  disappeared  in 
the  woods.  In  two  or  three  minutes  he  was  back 
again,  and  went  to  stuffing  himself  as  before ;  then  he 
disappeared  a  second  time,  and  I  imagined  told  a 
friend  of  his,  for  in  a  moment  or  two  along  came  a 
bobtailed  chipmunk,  as  if  in  search  of  something, 
and  passed  up,  and  down,  and  around,  but  did  not 
quite  hit  the  spot.  Shortly,  the  first  returned  a  third 
time,  and  had  now  grown  a  little  fastidious,  for  he 
began  to  sort  over  my  berries,  and  to  bite  into  them, 
as  if  to  taste  their  quality.  He  was  not  long  in  load- 
ing up,  however,  and  in  making  off  again.  But  I 
had  now  got  tired  of  the  joke,  and  my  berries  were 
appreciably  diminishing,  so  I  moved  away.  "What 
was  most  curious  about  the  proceeding  was,  that  <ne 
,.  ttle  poacher  took  different  directions  each  time,  and 
returned  from  different  wavs.  Was  this  to  elude 
pursuit,  or  was  he  distributing  the  fruit  to  his  friends 
and  neighbors  about,  astonishing  them  with  straw- 
berries for  lunch  ? 


BIRDS'-NESTING.  203 

But  I  am  making  slow  headway  toward  finding 
,he  bird's-nest,  for  I  had  set  out  on  this  occasion  in 
hopes  of  finding  a  rare  nest  —  the  nest  of  the  black- 
throated  blue-backed  warbler,  which,  it  seemed,  with 
one  or  two  others,  was  still  wanting  to  make  the  his- 
tory of  our  warblers  complete.  The  woods  were  ex- 
tensive, and  full  of  deep,  dark  tangles,  and  looking 
for  any  particular  nest  seemed  about  as  hopeless  a 
task  as  searching  for  a  needle  in  a  hay-stack,  as  the 
old  saying  is.  Where  to  begin,  and  how  ?  But  the 
principle  is  the  same  as  in  looking  for  a  hen's  nest: 
.  first  find  your  bird,  then  watch  its  movements.  The 
bird  is  in  these  woods,  for  I  have  seen  him  scores 
of  times,  but  whether  he  builds  high  or  low,  on  the 
ground  or  in  the  trees,  is  all  unknown  to  me.  That 
is  his  song  now  — "  twe-twea-twe-e-e-a,"  with  a  pe- 
culiar summer  languor  and  plaintiveness,  and  issuing 
from  the  lower  branches  and  growths.  Presently 
we  —  for  I  have  been  joined  by  a  companion  —  dis- 
cover the  bird,  a  male,  insecting  in  the  top  of  a 
newly-fallen  hemlock.  The  black,  white,  and  blue 
of  his  uniform  are  seen  at  a  glance.  His  movements 
are  quite  slow  compared  with  some  of  the  sylvinaB. 
If  he  will  only  betray  the  locality  of  that  little  dom- 
icile where  his  plainly-clad  mate  is  evidently  sitting, 
it  is  all  we  will  ask  of  him.  But  this  he  seems  in  no 
wise  disposed  to  do.  Here  and  there,  and  up  and 
down,  we  follow  him,  often  losing  him,  and  as  often 
refinding  him  by  his  song ;  but  the  clew  to  his  nest, 
how  shall  we  get  it  ?  Does  he  never  go  home  to  see 


204  BIRDS'-NESTING. 

how  things  are  getting  on,  or  to  see  if  his  presence  is 
not  needed,  or  to  take  madam  a  morsel  of  food.  No 
doubt  he  keeps  within  ear-shot,  and  a  cry  of  distress 
or  alarm  from  the  mother-bird  would  bring  him  to 
the  spot  in  an  instant.  Would  that  some  evil  fate 
would  make  her  cry  then  !  Presently  he  encounters 
a  rival.  His  feeding-ground  infringes  upon  that  of 
another,  and  the  two  birds  regard  each  other  threat- 
eningly. This  is  a  good  sign,  for  their  nests  are 
evidently  near. 

Their  battle-cry  is  a  low,  peculiar  chirp,  not  very 
fierce,  but  bantering  and  confident.  They  quickly 
come  to  blows,  but  it  is  a  very  fantastic  battle,  and, 
as  it  would  seem,  indulged  in  more  to  satisfy  their 
sense  of  honor  than  to  hurt  each  other,  for  neither 
party  gets  the  better  of  the  other,  and  they  separate 
a  few  paces  and  sing,  and  squeak,  and  challenge  each 
other  in  a  very  happy  frame  of  mind.  The  gauntlet 
is  no  sooner  thrown  down  than  it  is  again  taken  up 
by  one  or  the  other,  and  in  the  course  of  fifteen  or 
twenty  minutes  they  have  three  or  four  encounters, 
separating  a  little,  then  provoked  to  return  again  like 
two  cocks,  till  finally  they  withdraw  beyond  hearing 
of  each  other  —  both,  no  doubt,  claiming  the  victory. 
But  the  secret  of  the  nest  is  still  kept.  Once  I  think 
I  have  it.  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  bird  which  looks 
like  the  female,  and  near  by,  in  a  small  hemlock 
about  eight  feet  from  the  ground,  my  eye  detects  a 
nest.  But  as  I  come  up  under  it,  I  can  see  daylight 
Uirough  it,  and  that  it  is  empty  —  evidently  only  part 


BIRDS'-NESTING.  205 

finished  —  not  lined  or  padded  yet.  Now  if  the  bird 
will  only  return  and  claim  it,  the  point  will  be  gained. 
But  we  wait  and  watch  in  vain.  The  architect  has 
knocked  off  to-day,  and  we  must  come  again,  or  con- 
tinue our  search. 

While  loitering  about  here  we  were  much  amused 
by  three  chipmunks,  who  seemed  to  be  engaged  in 
some  kind  of  game.  It  looked  very  much  as  if  they 
were  playing  tag.  Round  and  round  they  would  go, 
first  one  taking  the  lead,  then  another,  all  good-nat- 
ured and  gleeful  as  school-boys.  There  is  one  thing 
t about  a  chipmunk  that  is  peculiar;  he  is  never  more 
than  one  jump  from  home.  Make  a  dive  at  him 
anywhere  and  in  he  goes.  He  knows  where  the 
hole  is,  even  when  it  is  covered  up  with  leaves. 
There  is  no  doubt,  also,  that  he  has  his  own  sense 
of  humor  and  fun,  as  what  squirrel  has  not  ?  I  have 
watched  two  red  squirrels  for  a  half-hour  cours- 
ing through  the  large  trees  by  the  road-side  where 
branches  interlocked,  and  engaged  in  a  game  of  tag 
as  obviously  as  two  boys.  As  soon  as  the  pursuer 
had  come  up  with  the  pursued,  and  actually  touched 
uim,  the  palm  was  his,  and  away  he  would  go,  tax- 
mg  his  wits  and  his  speed  to  the  utmost  to  elude  his 
fellow. 

Despairing  of  finding  either  of  the  nests  of  the 
two  males,  we  pushed  on  through  the  wocds  to  try 
our  luck  elsewhere.  Before  long,  just  as  we  were 
about  to  plunge  down  a  hill,  into  a  dense,  swampy 
$art  of  the  woods,  we  discovered  a  pair  of  the  bird* 


206  BIRDS'-NESTING. 

we  were  in  quest  of.  They  had  food  in  their  beaks, 
and,  as  we  paused,  showed  great  signs  of  alarm,  in- 
dicating that  the  nest  was  in  the  immediate  vicinity. 
This  was  enough.  We  would  pause  here  and  find 
this  nest,  anyhow.  To  make  a  sure  thing  of  it,  we 
determined  to  watch  the  parent  birds  till  we  had 
wrung  from  them  their  secret.  So  we  doggedly 
crouched  down  and  watched  them,  and  they  watched 
us.  It  was  diamond  cut  diamond.  But  as  we  felt 
constrained  in  our  movements,  desiring,  if  possible, 
to  keep  so  quiet  that  the  birds  would,  after  a  while, 
see  in  us  only  two  harmless  stumps  or  prostrate  logs, 
we  had  much  the  worst  of  it.  The  mosquitoes  were 
quite  taken  with  our  quiet,  and  knew  us  from  logs 
and  stumps  in  a  moment.  Neither  were  the  birds 
deceived,  not  even  when  we  tried  the  Indian's  tactics, 
and  plumed  ourselves  with  green  branches.  Ah,  the 
suspicious  creatures,  how  they  watched  us  with  the 
food  in  their  beaks,  abstaining  for  one  whole  hour 
from  ministering  that  precious  charge  which  other- 
wise would  have  been  visited  every  moment !  Quite 
near  us  they  would  come  at  times,  between  us  and 
the  nest,  eying  us  so  sharply.  Then  they  would 
move  off,  and  apparently  try  to  forget  our  presence 
Was  it  to  deceive  us,  or  to  persuade  himself  and  mate 
that  there  was  no  serious  cause  for  alarm,  that  the 
male  would  now  and  then  strike  up  in  full  song  and 
move  off  to  some  distance  through  the  trees  ?  But 
tne  mother-bird  did  not  allow  herself  to  lose  sight  of 
as  at  all,  and  both  birds,  after  carrying  the  food  in 


BIRDS'-NESTING.  207 

their  beaks  a  long  time,  would  swallow  it  themselves. 
Then  they  would  obtain  another  morsel  and  appar- 
ently approach  very  near  the  nest,  when  their  caution 
or  prudence  would  come  to  their  aid,  and  they  would 
swallow  the  food  and  hasten  away.  I  thought  the 
young  birds  would  cry  out,  but  not  a  syllable  from 
them.  Yet  this  was,  no  doubt,  what  kept  the  parent 
birds  away  from  the  nest.  The  clamor  the  young 
would  have  set  up  on  the  approach  of  the  old  with 
food  would  have  exposed  everything. 

After  a  time  I  felt  sure  I  knew  within  a  few  feet 
where  the  nest  was  concealed.  Indeed,  I  thought  I 
knew  the  identical  bush.  Then  the  birds  approached 
each  other  again  and  grew  very  confidential  about 
another  locality  some  rods  below.  This  puzzled  us, 
and  seeing  the  whole  afternoon  might  be  spent  in  this 
manner,  and  the  mystery  unsolved,  we  determined  to 
change  our  tactics  and  institute  a  thorough  search  of 
the  locality.  This  procedure  soon  brought  things  to 
a  crisis,  for,  as  my  companion  clambered  over  a  log, 
by  a  little  hemlock,  a  few  yards  from  where  we  had 
been  sitting,  with  a  cry  of  alarm  out  sprang  the  young 
birds  from  their  nest  in  the  hemlock,  and,  scampeiiiig 
and  fluttering  over  the  leaves,  disappeared  in  different 
directions.  This  brought  the  parent  birds  on  the  seem 
\n  an  agony  of  alarm.  Their  distress  was  pitiful 
They  threw  themselves  on  the  ground  at  our  verj 
feet,  and  fluttered,  and  cried,  and  trailed  themselvei 
before  us,  to  draw  us  away  from  the  place,  or  distract 
our  attention  from  the  helpless  young.  I  ghall  noJ 


208  BIRDS'-NESTING. 

forget  the  male  bird,  how  bright  he  looked,  how  sharp 
the  contrast  as  he  trailed  his  painted  plumage  there 
on  the  dry  leaves.  Apparently  he  was  seriously 
disabled.  He  would  start  up  as  if  exerting  every 
muscle  to  fly  away,  but  no  use  ;  down  he  would 
come  with  a  helpless,  fluttering  motion  before  he  had 
gone  two  yards,  and  apparently  you  had  only  to  go 
and  pick  him  up.  But  before  you  could  pick  him 
up,  he  had  recovered  somewhat  and  flown  a  little 
farther ;  and  thus,  if  you  were  tempted  to  follow 
him,  you  would  soon  find  yourself  some  distance 
from  the  scene  of  the  nest,  and  both  old  and  young 
well  out  of  your  reach.  The  female  bird  was  not 
less  solicitous,  and  practiced  the  same  arts  upon  us, 
to  decoy  us  away,  but  her  dull  plumage  rendered  her 
less  noticeable.  The  male  was  clad  in  holiday  attire, 
but  his  mate  in  an  every-day  working-garb. 

The  nest  was  built  in  the  fork  of  a  little  hemlock, 
about  fifteen  inches  from  the  ground,  and  was  a  thick, 
firm  structure,  composed  of  the  finer  material  of  the 
woods,  with  a  lining  of  very  delicate  roots  or  rootlets. 
There  were  four  young  birds  and  one  addled  egg. 
We  found  it  in  a  locality  about  the  head-waters  of 
the  eastern  branch  of  the  Delaware,  where  several 
other  of  the  rarer  species  of  warblers,  such  as  the 
mourning-ground,  the  blackburnian,  the  chestnut- 
sided,  and  the  speckled  Canada,  spond  the  summer 
and  rear  their  young. 

Defunct  birds'-nests  are  easy  to  find;  when  the 
•eaves  fall  then  they  are  in  every  bush  and  tree 


BIRDS'-NESTING.  209 

and  one  wonders  how  he  missed  them ;  but  a  live 
nest,  how  it  eludes  one!  I  have  read  of  a  noted 
criminal  whor  could  hide  himself  pretty  effectually 
in  any  room  that  contained  the  usual  furniture ;  he 
would  embrace  the  support  of  a  table  so  as  to  seem 
part  of  it.  The  bird  has  studied  the  same  art ;  it 
always  blends  its  nest  with  the  surroundings ;  and 
sometimes  its  very  openness  hides  it ;  the  light  itself 
seems  to  conceal  it.  Then  the  birds  build  anew  each 
year,  and  so  always  avail  themselves  of  the  present 
and  latest  combination  of  leaves  and  screens,  of  light 
and  shade.  What  was  very  well  concealed  one  sea- 
son, may  be  quite  exposed  the  next. 

Going  a-fishing  or  a-berrying  is  a  good  introduc- 
tion to  the  haunts  of  the  birds,  and  to  their  nesting- 
places.  You  put  forth  your  hand  for  the  berries, 
and  there  is  a  nest ;  on  your  tread  by  the  creeks 
starts  the  sand-piper  or  the  water-thrush  from  the 
ground  where  its  eggs  are  concealed,  or  some  shy 
wood-warbler  from  a  bush.  One  day,  fishing  down  a 
deep  wooded  gorge,  my  hook  caught  on  a  limb  over- 
head, and  on  pulling  it  down  I  found  I  had  missed 
my  trout,  but  had  caught  a  humming-bird's  nest.  It 
was  saddled  on  the  limb  as  nicely  as  if  it  had  been  a 
grown  part  of  it. 

Other  collectors  beside  the  oblogists  are  looking 
for  birds'-nests,  —  the  squirrels  and  owls  and  jays  and 
crows.  The  worst  depredator  in  this  direction  I 
knew  of  is  the  fish-crow,  and  I  warn  him  to  keep 
off  my  premises,  and  charge  every  gunner  to  spare 
14 


210  BIRDS'-NESTING. 

him  not.  lie  is  a  small  sneak-thief,  and  will  rob  the 
nest  of  every  robin,  wood-thrush,  and  oriole  he  can 
come  at.  I  believe  he  fishes  only  when  he  is  unable 
to  find  birds'  eggs  or  young  birds.  The  genuine 
crow,  the  crow  with  the  honest  "caw,"  "caw,"  I 
have  never  caught  in  such  small  business,  though 
the  king-bird  makes  no  discrimination  between  them, 
but  accuses  both  alike* 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

THE  halcyon  or  king-fisher  is  a  good  guide  when 
you  go  to  the  woods.  He  will  not  insure  smooth 
water  or  fair  weather,  but  he  knows  every  stream 
and  lake  like  a  book,  and  will  take  you  to  the  wildest 
and  most  unfrequented  places.  Follow  his  rattle  and 
you  shall  see  the  source  of  every  trout  and  salmon 
stream  on  the  continent.  You  shall  see  the  Lake  of 
the  "Woods,  and  far-off  Athabaska  and  Abbitibbe,  and 
the  unknown  streams  that  flow  into  Hudson's  Bay, 
and  many  others.  His  time  is  the  time  of  the  trout, 
too,  namely,  from  April  to  September.  He  makes 
his  subterranean  nest  in  the  bank  of  some  favorite 
stream,  and  then  goes  on  long  excursions  up  and 
down  and  over  woods  and  mountains  to  all  the  waters 
?vithin  reach,  always  fishing  alone,  the  true  angler 
that  he  is,  his  fellow  keeping  far  ahead  or  behind,  or 
taking  the  other  branch.  He  loves  the  sound  of  a 
water-fall,  and  will  sit  a  long  time  on  a  dry  limb 
overhanging  the  pool  below  it,  and,  forgetting  his  oc- 
cupation, brood  upon  his  own  memories  and  fancies. 

The  past  season  my  friend  and  I  took  a  hint  from 


214        THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

him,  and  when  the  dog-star  began  to  blaze,  set  out 
for  Canada,  making  a  big  detour  to  touch  at  salt 
water  and  to  take  New  York  and  Boston  on  our  way. 

The  latter  city  was  new  to  me  and  we  paused  there 
and  angled  a  couple  of  days  and  caught  an  editor,  a 
philosopher,  and  a  poet,  and  might  have  caught  more 
if  we  had  had  a  mind  to,  for  these  waters  are  full  oj 
'em,  and  big  ones  too. 

Coming  from  the  mountainous  regions  of  the 
Hudson,  we  saw  little  in  the  way  of  scenery  that 
arrested  our  attention  until  we  beheld  the  St.  Law- 
rence, though  one  gets  glimpses  now  and  then  as 
he  is  whirled  along  through  New  Hampshire  and 
Vermont  that  make  him  wish  for  a  fuller  view.  It  is 
always  a  pleasure  to  bring  to  pass  the  geography  of 
one's  boyhood;  'tis  like  the  fulfilling  of  a  dream; 
hence  it  was  with  partial  eyes  that  I  looked  upon  the 
Merrimac,  the  Connecticut,  and  the  Passumpsic,  — 
dusky,  squaw-colored  streams,  whose  names  I  had 
learned  so  long  ago.  The  traveler  opens  his  eyes  a 
little  wider  when  he  reaches  Lake  Memphremagog, 
especially  if  he  have  the  luck  to  see  it  under  such  a 
sunset  as  we  did,  its  burnished  surface  glowing  like 
molten  gold.  This  lake  is  an  immense  trough  that 
accommodates  both  sides  of  the  fence,  though  the 
larger  and  longer  part  of  it  by  far  is  in  Canada.  Its 
western  shore  is  bold  and  picturesque,  being  skirted 
by  a  detachment  of  the  Green  Mountains,  the  main 
range  of  which  is  seen  careering  along  the  horizon 
tar  to  the  southwest ;  to  the  east  and  north,  whither 


THE  HALCYON   IN  CANADA. 


the  railroad  takes  you,  the  country  is  flat  and  mono- 
tonous. 

The  first  peculiarity  one  notices  about  the  farms  in 
this  northern  country  is  the  close  proximity  of  the 
house  and  barn,  in  most  cases  the  two  buildings 
touching  at  some  point,  —  an  arrangement  doubtless 
prompted  by  the  deep  snows  and  severe  cold  of  this 
latitude.  The  typical  Canadian  dwelling-house  is 
also  presently  met  with  on  entering  the  Dominion,  — 
a  low,  modest  structure  of  hewn  spruce  logs,  with  a 
steep  roof  (containing  two  or  more  dormer  windows) 
that  ends  in  a  smart  curve,  a  hint  taken  from  the 
Chinese  pagoda.  Even  in  the  more  costly  brick  or 
stone  houses  in  the  towns  and  vicinity  this  style  is 
adhered  to.  It  is  so  universal  that  one  wonders  if  the 
reason  of  it  also  be  not  in  the  climate,  the  outward 
curve  of  the  roof  shooting  the  sliding  snow  farther 
away  from  the  dwelling.  It  affords  a  wide  projection, 
in  many  cases  covering  a  veranda,  and  in  all  cases 
protecting  the  doors  and  windows  without  interfering 
with  the  light.  In  the  better  class  of  clap-boarded 
houses  the  finish  beneath  the  projecting  eaves  is  also 
a  sweeping  curve,  opposing  and  bracing  that  of  the 
roof.  A  two-story  country  house,  or  a  Mansard  roof, 
[  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  in  Canada,  but  in 
places  they  have  become  so  enamored  of  the  white 
of  the  snow  that  they  even  whitewash  the  roofs  of 
their  buildings,  giving  a  cluster  of  them  the  impres- 
sion, at  a  distance,  of  an  encampment  of  great  tents. 

As  we  neared  Point  Levi,  opposite  Quebec,  we  go» 


216  THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

our  first  view  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  "  Iliad  of  riv 
ers  !  "  exclaimed  my  friend.  "  Yet  unsung !  "  The 
Hudson  must  take  a  back  seat  now,  and  a  good  ways 
back.  One  of  the  two  or  three  great  water-courses 
of  the  globe  is  before  you.  No  other  river,  I  imag- 
ine, carries  such  a  volume  of  pure  cold  water  to  the 
sea.  Nearly  all  its  feeders  are  trout  and  salmon 
streams,  and  what  an  airing  and  what  a  bleaching  it 
gets  on  its  course.  Its  history,  its  antecedents,  are  un- 
paralleled. The  great  lakes  are  its  camping  grounds  ; 
here  its  hosts  repose  under  the  sun  and  stars  in  areas 
like  that  of  states  and  kingdoms,  and  it  is  its  waters 

o  * 

that  shake  the  earth  at  Niagara.  Where  it  receives 
the  Saguenay  it  is  twenty  miles  wide,  and  when  it  de- 
bouches into  the  Gulf  it  is  a  hundred.  Indeed,  it  is  a 
chain  of  Homeric  sublimities  from  beginning  to  end. 

o  o 

The  great  cataract  is  a  fit  sequel  to  the  great  lakes ; 
the  spirit  that  is  born  in  vast  and  tempestuous 
Superior  takes  its  full  glut  of  power  in  that  fearful 
chasm.  If  paradise  is  hinted  in  the  Thousand  Isl 
ands,  hell  is  unveiled  in  that  pit  of  terrors. 

Its  last  escapade  is  the  great  rapids  above  Mon- 
treal, down  which  the  steamer  shoots  with  its  breath- 
less passengers,  after  which,  inhaling  and  exhaling 
its  mighty  tides,  it  flows  calmly  to  the  sea. 

The  St.  Lawrence  is  the  type  of  nearly  all  the 
Canadian  rivers,  which  are  strung  with  lakes  and 
rapids  and  cataracts,  and  are  full  of  peril  and  advent- 
ore. 

Here  we  reach  the  oldest  part  of  the  continent, 


THE   HALCYON  IN   CANADA.  217 

geologists  tell  us  ;  and  here  we  encounter  a  fragment 
of  the  Old  World  civilization.  Quebec  presents  the 
anomaly  of  a  mediaeval  European  city  in  the  midst 
of  the  American  landscape.  This  air,  this  sky,  these 
clouds,  these  trees,  the  look  of  these  fields,  are  what 
we  have  always  known  ;  but  these  houses,  and  streets, 
and  vehicles,  and  language,  and  physiognomy  are 
strange.  As  I  walked  upon  the  grand  terrace  I  sa^y 
the  robin,  and  king-bird,  and  song-sparrow,  and  there 
in  the  tree,  by  Wolfe  Monument,  our  summer  warbler 
was  at  home.  I  presently  saw,  also,  that  our  repub- 
lican crow  was  a  British  subject,  and  that  he  behaved 
here  more  like  his  European  brother  than  he  does  in 
the  States,  being  less  wild  and  suspicious.  On  the 
Plains  of  Abraham  excellent  timothy  grass  was  grow- 
ing, and  cattle  were  grazing.  We  found  a  path 
through  the  meadow,  and,  with  the  exception  of  a 
very  abundant  weed  with  a  blue  flower,  saw  nothing 
new  or  strange,  —  nothing  but  the  steep  tin  roofs  of 
the  city  and  its  frowning  wall  and  citadel.  Sweep- 
ing around  the  far  southern  horizon  we  could  catch 

o 

glimpses  of  mountains  that  were  evidently  in  Maine 
or  New  Hampshire  ;  while  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  to 
the  north  the  Laurentian  ranges,  dark  and  formi- 
dable, arrested  the  eye.  Quebec,  or  the  walled  part 
of  it,  is  situated  on  a  point  of  land  shaped  not  unlike 
the  human  foot,  looking  northeast,  the  higher  and 
bolder  side  being  next  the  river,  with  the  main  part 
of  the  town  on  the  northern  slope  toward  the  St 
Charles.  Its  toes  are  well  down  in  the  mud  where 


218  THE   HALCYON  IN   CANADA. 

this  stream  joins  the  St.  Lawrence,  while  the  citadel 
is  high  on  the  instep  and  commands  the  whole  field. 
The  grand  Battery  is  a  little  below,  on  the  brink  of 
the  instep,  so  to  speak,  and  the  promenader  looks 
down  several  hundred  feet  into  the  tops  of  the  chim- 
neys of  this  part  of  the  lower  town,  and  upon  the 
great  river  sweeping  by  northeastward  like  another 
Amazon.  The  heel  of  our  misshappen  foot  extends 
indefinitely  toward  Montreal.  Upon  it,  on  a  level 
with  the  citadel,  are  the  Plains  of  Abraham.  It  was 
up  its  high,  almost  perpendicular,  sides  that  Wolfe 
clambered  with  Ins  army,  and  stood  in  the  rear  of  his 
enemy  one  pleasant  September  morning  over  a  hun- 
dred years  ago. 

To  the  north  and  northeast  of  Quebec,  and  in  full 
view  from  the  upper  parts  of  the  city,  lies  a  rich  belt 
of  agricultural  country,  sloping  gently  toward  the 
river,  and  running  parallel  with  it  for  many  miles, 
called  the  Beauport  slopes.  The  division  of  the 
land  into  uniform  parallelograms,  as  in  France,  was 
a  marked  feature,  and  is  so  throughout  the  Domin- 
ion. A  road  ran  through  the  midst  of  it  lined  with 
trees,  and  leading  to  the  falls  of  the  Montmorency. 
I  imagine  that  this  section  is  the  garden  of  Que- 
bec. Beyond  it  rose  the  mountains.  Our  eyes  looked 
wistfully  toward  them,  for  we  had  decided  to  pene- 
trate the  Canadian  woods  in  that  direction. 

One  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles  from  Quebec, 
as  the  loon  flies,  almost  due  north  over  unbroken 
spruce  forests,  lies  Lake  St.  John,  the  cradle  of  the 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       219 

terrible  Saguenay.  On  the  map  it  looks  like  a  great 
cuttle-fish  with  its  numerous  arms  and  tentacula 
reaching  out^in  all  directions  into  the  wilds.  It  is  a 
large  oval  body  of  water  thirty  miles  in  its  greatest 
diameter.  The  season  here,  owing  to  a  sharp  north- 
ern sweep  of  the  isothermal  lines,  is  two  or  three 
weeks  earlier  than  at  Quebec.  The  soil  is  warm  and 
fertile,  and  there  is  a  thrifty  growing  settlement  here 
with  valuable  agricultural  produce,  but  no  market 
nearer  than  Quebec,  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  dis- 
tant by  water,  with  a  hard,  tedious  land  journey  be- 
sides. In  winter  the  settlement  can  have  little  or  no 
communication  with  the  outside  world. 

To  relieve  this  isolated  colony  and  encourage  fur- 
ther development  of  the  St.  John  region,  the  Cana- 
dian government  is  building  a  wagon-road  through 
the  wilderness  from  Quebec  directly  to  the  lake,  thus 
economizing  half  the  distance,  as  the  road  when  com- 
pleted will  form  with  the  old  route,  the  Saguenay  and 
St.  Lawrence,  one  side  of  an  equilateral  triangle.  A 
railroad  was  projected  a  few  years  ago  over  nearly 
the  same  ground,  and  the  contract  to  build  it  given  to 
an  enterprising  Yankee,  who  pocketed  a  part  of  the 
money  and  has  never  been  heard  of  since.  The  road 
runs  for  one  hundred  miles  through  an  unbroken 
wilderness  and  opens  up  scores  of  streams  and  lakes 
abounding  with  trout,  into  which  until  the  road-mak- 
ers fished  them,  no  white  man  had  ever  cast  a  hook. 

It  was  a  good  prospect,  and  we  resolved  to  commit 
ourselves  to  the  St.  John  road.  The  services  of  ft 


220       THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

young  fellow  whom,  by  reason  of  his  impracticable 
French  name,  we  called  Joe,  was  secured,  and  after 
a  delay  of  twenty-four  hours  we  were  packed  upon 
a  Canadian  buck-board  with  hard-tack  in  one  bag 
and  oats  in  another,  and  the  journey  began.  It 
was  Sunday,  and  we  held  up  our  heads  more  confi- 
dently when  we  got  beyond  the  throng  of  well-dressed 
church-goers.  For  ten  miles  we  had  a  good  stone 
road  and  rattled  along  it  at  a  lively  pace.  In  about 
half  that  distance  we  came  to  a  large  brick  church, 
where  we  began  to  see  the  rural  population  or  hall- 
tans.  They  came  mostly  in  two-wheeled  vehicles, 
some  of  the  carts  quite  fancy,  in  which  the  young 
fellows  rode  complacently  beside  their  girls.  The 
two-wheeler  predominates  in  Canada,  and  is  of  all 
styles  and  sizes.  After  we  left  the  stone  road,  we 
began  to  encounter  the  hills  that  are  preliminary  to 
the  mountains.  The  farms  looked  like  the  wilder  and 
poorer  parts  of  Maine  or  New  Hampshire.  While 
Joe  was  getting  a  supply  of  hay  of  a  farmer  to  take 
into  the  woods  for  his  horse,  I  walked  through  a 
tfeld  in  quest  of  wild  strawberries.  The  season  for 
them  was  past,  it  being  the  20th  of  July,  and  I  found 
barely  enough  to  make  me  think  that  the  strawberry 
here  is  far  less  pungent  and  high-flavored  than  with 
us. 

The  cattle  in  the  fields  and  by  the  roadside  looked 
very  small  and  delicate,  the  effect,  no  doubt,  of  the 
severe  climate.  We  saw  many  rude  implements  oi 
agriculture,  —  such  as  wooden  plows  shod  with  iron- 


THE   HALCYON  IN   CANADA.  221 

We  passed  several  parties  of  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren from  Quebec  picnicking  in  the  "  bush."  Here  it 
was  little  more  than  a  "  bush  ;  "  but  while  in  Canada 
we  never  heard  the  woods  designated  by  any  other 
term.  I  noticed,  also,  that  when  a  distance  of  a  few 
miles  or  of  a  fraction  of  a  mile  is  to  be  designated, 
the  French  Canadian  does  not  use  the  term  miles, 
but  says  it 's  so  many  acres  through  or  to  the  next 
place. 

This  fondness  for  the  "  bush  "  at  this  season  seems 
quite  a  marked  feature  in  the  social  life  of  the  av- 
erage Quebecker,  and  is  one  of  the  original  French 
traits  that  holds  its  own  among  them.  Parties  leave 
the  city  in  carts  and  wagons  by  midnight,  or  earlier, 
and  drive  out  as  far  as  they  can  the  remainder  of 
the  night,  in  order  to  pass  the  whole  Sunday  in  the 
woods,  despite  the  mosquitoes  and  black  flies.  Those 
we  saw  seemed  a  decent,  harmless  set,  whose  idea  of 
a  good  time  was  to  be  in  the  open  air,  and  as  far 
into  the  "  bush  "  as  possible. 

The  post-road,  as  the  new  St.  John's  road  is  also 
called,  begins  twenty  miles  from  Quebec  at  Stone 
ham,  the  farthest  settlement.  Five  miles  into  the 
forest  upon  the  new  road  is  the  hamlet  of  La  Chance 
(pronounced  La  Shaunce),  the  last  house  till  you 
reach  the  lake,  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  distant. 
Our  destination  the  first  night  was  La  Chance's ; 
this  would  enable  us  to  reach  the  Jacques  Cartiei 
River  forty  miles  farther,  where  we  proposed  to  ei> 
camp,  in  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day. 


222        THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

We  were  now  fairly  among  the  mountains,  and 
the  sun  was  well  down  behind  the  trees  when  we 
entered  upon  the  post-road.  It  proved  to  be  a  wide, 
well-built  highway,  grass-grown,  but  in  good  condi- 
tion. After  an  hour's  travel  we  began  to  see  signs  of 
a  clearing,  and  about  six  o'clock  drew  up  in  front  of 
the  long,  low,  log  habitation  of  La  Chance.  Their 
hearth-stone  was  out-door  at  this  season,  and  its 
smoke  rose  through  the  still  atmosphere  in  a  frail  col- 
umn toward  the  sky.  The  family  was  gathered  hero 
and  welcomed  us  cordially  as  we  drew  up,  the  mas- 
ter shaking  us  by 'the  hand  as  if  we  were  old  friends. 
His  English  was  very  poor  and  our  French  was 
poorer,  but  with  Joe  as  a  bridge  between  us,  com- 
munication on  a  pitch  was  kept  up.  His  wife  could 
speak  no  English ;  but  here  true  French  politeness 
and  graciousness  was  a  language  we  could  readily  un- 
derstand. Our  supper  was  got  ready  from  our  own 
supplies,  while  we  sat  or  stood  in  the  open  air  about 
the  fire.  The  .clearing  comprised  fifty  or  sixty  acres 
of  rough  land  in  the  bottom  of  a  narrow  valley,  and 
bore  indifferent  crops  of  oats,  barley,  potatoes,  and 
timothy  grass.  The  latter  was  just  in  bloom,  being 
a  month  or  more  later  than  with  us.  The  primitive 
woods,  mostly  of  birch,  with  a  sprinkling  of  spruce, 
put  a  high  cavernous  wall  about  the  scene.  How 
sweetly  the  birds  sang,  their  notes  seeming  to  have 
unusual  strength  and  volume  in  this  forest-bound 

o 

opening  !    The  principal  singer  was  the  white-throat* 
ed  sparrow,  which  we  heard  and  saw  everywhere  03 


THE  HALCYON  IN   CANADA.  223 

the  roe  te.  lie  is  called  here  la  sijfleur  —  the  whis- 
tler, and  very  delightful  his  whistle  was.  From  the 
forest  came  the  evening  hymn  of  a  thrush,  the  olive- 
backed,  perhaps,  like,  but  less  clear  and  full  than,  the 
veeries'. 

In  the  evening  we  sat  about  the  fire  in  rude  home- 
made chairs,  and  had  such  broken  and  disjointed 
talk  as  we  could  manage.  Our  host  had  lived  in 
Quebec  and  been  a  school-teacher  there ;  he  had 
wielded  the  birch  until  he  lost  his  health,  when  he 
came  here  and  the  birches  gave  it  back  to  him.  He 
was  now  hearty  and  well,  and  had  a  family  of  six  or 
seven  children  about  him. 

We  were  given  a  good  bed  that  night,  and  fared 
better  than  we  expected.  About  one  o'clock  I  was 
awakened  by  suppressed  voices  outside  the  window. 
Who  could  it  be?  Had  a  band  of  brigands  sur- 
rounded the  house  ?  As  our  outfit  and  supplies  had 
not  been  removed  from  the  wagon  in  front  of  the 
door  I  got  up,  and,  lifting  one  corner  of  the  window 
paper,  peeped  out ;  I  saw  in  the  dim  moonlight  four 
or  five  men  standing  about  engaged  in  low  conversa- 
tion. Presently  one  of  the  men  advanced  to  the 
door  and  began  to  rap  and  call  the  name  of  our  host. 
Then  I  knew  their  errand  was  not  hostile ;  but  the 
weird  effect  of  that  regular  alternate  rapping  and 
calling  ran  through  my  dream  all  the  rest  of  the 
night.  Rat-tat,  tat,  tat,  —  La  Chance.  Rat-tat,  tat, 
—  La  Chance  five  or  s;x  times  repeated,  before  La 
Chance  heard  and  responded.  Then  the  door  opened 


224  THE   HALCYON   IN  CANADA. 

and  they  came  in,  when  it  was  jabber,  jabber,  jabber 
In  the  next  room  till  I  fell  asleep. 

In  the  morning,  to  my  inquiry  as  to  who  the 
travelers  were  and  what  they  wanted,  La  Chance  said 
they  were  old  acquaintances  going  a-fishing  and  had 
stopped  to  have  a  little  talk. 

Breakfast  was  served  early  and  we  were  upon  the 
road  before  the  sun.  Then  began  a  forty-mile  ride 
through  a  dense  Canadian  spruce  forest  over  the 
drift  and  bowlders  of  the  paleozoic  age.  Up  to  this 
point  the  scenery  had  been  quite  familiar, — not 
much  unlike  that  of  the  Catskills,  —  but  now  there 
was  a  change  ;  the  birches  disappeared,  except  now 
and  then  a  slender  white  or  paper  birch,  and  spruce 
everywhere  prevailed.  A  narrow  belt  on  each  side 
of  the  road  had  been  blasted  by  fire,  and  the  dry, 
white  stems  of  the  trees  stood  stark  and  stiff.  The 
road  ran  pretty  straight,  skirting  the  mountains  and 
threading  the  valleys,  and  hour  after  hour  the  dark 
silent  woods  wheeled  past  us.  Swarms  of  black 
flies  —  those  insect  wolves  —  waylaid  us  and  hung  to 
us  till  a  smart  spurt  of  the  horse,  where  the  road 
favored,  left  them  behind.  But  a  species  of  large 
horse-fly,  black  and  vicious,  it  was  not  so  easy  to  get 
rid  of.  When  they  alighted  upon  the  horse  we 
would  demolish  them  with  the  whip  or  with  our  felt 
hats,  a  proceeding  the  horse  soon  came  to  under- 
stand and  appreciate.  The  white  and  gray  Lauren- 
tian  bowlders  lay  along  the  roadside.  The  so£ 
«eemed  as  if  made  up  of  decayed  and  pulverized 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       225 

rock,  and  doubtless  contained  very  little  vegetable 
matter.  It  is  so  barren  that  it  will  never  repay 
clearing  and  cultivating. 

Our  course  was  an  up-grade  toward  the  highlands 
that  separate  the  water-shed  of  St.  John  Lake  from 
that  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  as  we  proceeded  the 
epruce  became  smaller  and  smaller  till  the  trees  were 
seldom  more  than  eight  or  ten  inches  in  diameter. 
Nearly  all  of  them  terminated  in  a  dense  tuft  at  the 
top  beneath  which  the  stem  would  be  bare  for  several 
feet,  giving  them  the  appearance,  my  friend  said,  as 
they  stood  sharply  defined  along  the  crests  of  the 
mountains,  of  cannon  swabs.  Endless,  interminable 
successions  of  these  cannon  swabs,  each  just  like  its 
fellow,  came  and  went,  came  and  went,  all  day.  Some- 
times we  could  see  the  road  a  mile  or  two  ahead,  and 
it  was  as  lonely  and  solitary  as  a  path  an  the  desert. 
Periods  of  talk  and  song  and  jollity  were  succeeded 
by  long  stretches  of  silence.  A  buck-board  upon  such 
a  road  does  not  conduce  to  a  continuous  flow  of  ani- 
mal spirits.  A  good  brace  for  the  foot  and  a  good 
hold  for  the  hand  is  one's  main  lookout  much  of  the 
time.  We  walked  up  the  steeper  hills,  one  of  them 
nearly  a  mile  long,  then  clung  grimly  to  the  board 
during  the  rapid  descent  of  the  other  side. 

We  occasionally  saw  a  solitary  pigeon  —  in  every 
instance  a  cock  —  leading  a  forlorn  life  in  the  wood, 
a  hermit  of  his  kind,  or  more  probably  a  rejected 
and  superfluous  male.  We  came  upon  two  or  three 
broods  of  spruce-grouse  in  the  road,  so  tame  that 
15 


226  THE   HALCYON  IN   CANADA. 

one  could  have  knocked  them  over  with  poles,  7)** 
passed  many  beautiful  lakes ;  among  others  the  Twe 
Sisters,  one  on  each  side  of  the  road.  At  noon  we 
paused  at  a  lake  in  a  deep  valley,  and  fed  the  horse 
and  had  lunch.  I  was  not  long  in  getting  ready 
my  fishing  tackle,  and  upon  a  raft  made  of  two  logs 
pinned  together  floated  out  upon  the  lake  and  quickly 
took  all  the  trout  we  wanted. 

Early  in  the  afternoon,  we  entered  upon  what  is 
called  La  Grand  Brulure,  or  Great  Burning,  and  to 
the  desolation  of  living  woods  succeeded  the  greater 
desolation  of  a  blighted  forest.  All  the  mountains 
and  valleys,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  had  been 
swept  by  the  fire,  and  the  bleached  and  ghostly  skel- 
etons of  the  trees  alone  met  the  gaze.  The  fire  had 
come  over  from  the  Saguenay,  a  hundred  or  more 
miles  to  the  east,  seven  or  eight  years  before,  and 
had  consumed  or  blasted  everything  in  its  way.  We 
saw  the  skull  of  a  moose  said  to  have  perished  in 
the  fire.  For  three  hours  we  rode  through  this  valley 
and  shadow  of  death.  In  the  midst  of  it,  where  the 
trees  had  nearly  all  disappeared,  and  where  the 
ground  was  covered  with  coarse  wild  grass,  we  came 
upon  the  Morancy  River,  a  placid  yellow  stream 
twenty  or  twenty-five  yards  wide,  abounding  with 
irout.  We  walked  a  short  distance  along  its  banks 
and  peered  curiously  into  its  waters.  The  mountains 
on  either  hand  had  been  burned  by  the  fire  until  in 
places  their  great  granite  bones  were  bare  and  white. 

At  another  point  we  were  within  ear-shot  for  a 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       227 

mile  or  more  of  a  brawling  stream  in  the  valley  be- 
low us,  and  now  and  then  caught  a  glimpse  of  foam- 
ing rapids  or  cascades  through  the  dense  spruce,  —  a 
trout  stream  that  probably  no  man  had  ever  fished, 
as  it  would  be  quite  impossible  to  do  so  in  such  a 
maze  and  tangle  of  woods. 

"We  neither  met,  nor  passed,  nor  saw  any  travelers 
till  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  we  descried  far  ahead 
a  man  on  horseback.  It  was  a  welcome  relief.  It 
was  like  a  sail  at  sea.  When  he  saw  us  he  drew  rein 
and  awaited  our  approach.  He,  too,  had  probably 
tired  of  the  solitude  and  desolation  of  the  road.  He 
proved  to  be  a  young  Canadian  going  to  join  the 
gang  of  workmen  at  the  farther  end  of  the  road. 

About  four  o'clock  we  passed  another  small  lake, 
and  in  a  few  moments  more  drew  up  at  the  bridge 
over  the  Jacques  Cartier  River,  and  our  forty-mile 
ride  was  finished.  There  was  a  stable  here  that  had 
been  used  by  the  road-builders,  and  was  now  used  by 
the  teams  that  hauled  in  their  supplies.  This  would 
do  for  the  horse ;  a  snug  log  shanty  built  by  an  old 
trapper  and  hunter  for  use  in  the  winter,  a  hundred 
yards  below  the  bridge,  amid  the  spruces  on  the  bank 
of  the  river,  when  rebedded  and  refurnished,  would 
do  for  us.  The  river  at  this  point  was  a  swift,  black 
etream  from  thirty  to  forty  feet  wide,  with  a  strength 
and  a  bound  like  a  moose.  It  was  not  shrunken  and 
emaciated,  like  similar  streams  in  a  cleared  country, 
but  full,  copious,  and  strong.  Indeed,  one  can  haidly 
realize  how  the  lesser  water-courses  have  suffered  by 


228       THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

the  denuding  of  the  land  of  its  forest  covering,  until 
he  goes  into  the  primitive  woods  and  sees  how  bound- 
ing and  athletic  they  are  there.  They  are  literally 
well  fed  and  their  measure  of  life  is  full.  In  fact, 
a  trout-brook  is  as  much  a  thing  of  the  woods  as  a 
moose  or  deer,  and  will  not  thrive  well  in  the  open 
country. 

Three  miles  above  our  camp  was  Great  Lake 
Jacques  Cartier,  the  source  of  the  river,  a  sheet  of 
water  nine  miles  long  and  from  one  to  three  wide ; 
fifty  rods  below  was  Little  Lake  Jacques  Cartier,  an 
irregular  body  about  two  miles  across.  Stretching 
away  on  every  hand,  bristling  on  the  mountains  and 
darkling  in  the  valleys,  was  the  illimitable  spruce 
woods.  The  moss  in  them  covered  the  ground  nearly 
knee-deep,  and  lay  like  newly  fallen  snow,  hiding 
rocks  and  logs  filling  depressions,  and  muffling  the 
foot.  When  it  was  dry  one  could  find  a  most  de- 
lightful couch  anywhere. 

The  spruce  seems  to  have  colored  the  water,  which 
is  a  dark  amber  color,  but  entirely  sweet  and  pure. 
There  needed  no  better  proof  of  the  latter  fact  than 
the  trout  with  which  it  abounded,  and  their  clear  and 
vivid  tints.  In  its  lower  portions  near  the  St.  Law- 
•ence,  the  Jacques  Cartier  River  is  a  salmon  stream, 
but  these  fish  have  never  been  found  as  near  its 
source  as  we  were,  though  there  is  no  apparent  rea- 
son why  they  should  not  be. 

There  is  perhaps  no  moment  in  the  life  of  an  an- 
gler fraught  with  so  much  eagerness  and  impatiencd 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       229 

as  when  he  first  finds  himself  upon  the  bank  of  a 
new  and  long-sought  stream.  When  I  was  a  boy 
and  used  to  go  a-fishing,  I  could  seldom  restrain 
my  eagerness  after  I  arrived  in  sight  of  the  brook 
or  pond,  and  must  needs  run  the  rest  of  the  way. 
Then  the  delay  in  rigging  my  tackle  was  a  trial  my 
patience  was  never  quite  equal  to.  After  I  had  made 
a  few  casts,  or  had  caught  one  fish,  I  could  pause  and 
adjust  my  line  properly.  I  found  some  remnant  of 
the  old  enthusiasm  still  in  me  when  I  sprang  from 
the  buck-board  that  afternoon,  and  saw  the  strange 
river  rushing  by.  I  would  have  given  something  if 
my  tackle  had  been  rigged  so  that  I  could  have  tried 
on  the  instant  the  temper  of  the  trout  that  had  just 
broken  the  surface  within  easy  reach  of  the  shore. 
But  I  had  anticipated  this  moment  coming  along,  and 
had  surreptitiously  undone  my  rod-case  and  got  my 
reel  out  of  my  bag,  and  was  therefore  a  few  moments 
ahead  of  my  companion  in  making  the  first  cast. 
The  trout  rose  readily,  and  almost  too  soon  we  had 
more  than  enough  for  dinner,  though  no  "  rod-smash- 
ers "  had  been  seen  or  felt.  Our  experience  the  next 
morning,  and  during  the  day,  and  the  next  morning 
in  the  lake,  in  the  rapids,  in  the  pools,  was  about  the 
same ;  there  was  a  surfeit  of  trout  eight  or  ten  inches 
long,  though  we  rarely  kept  any  under  ten ;  but  the 
big  fish  were  lazy  and  would  not  rise  ;  they  were  in 
the  deepest  water  and  did  not  like  to  get  up. 

The  third  day,  in  the  afternoon,  we  had  our  first 
and  only  thorough  sensation  in  the  shape  of  a  big 


230       THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

trout.  It  came  none  too  soon.  The  interest  had 
begun  to  flag.  But  one  big  fish  a  week  will  do.  It 
is  a  pinnacle  of  delight  in  the  angler's  experience 
that  he  may  well  be  three  days  in  working  up  to, 
and  once  reached,  it  is  three  days  down  to  the  old 
humdrum  level  again.  At  least  it  is  with  me.  It 
was  a  dull,  rainy  day ;  the  fog  rested  low  upon  the 
mountains,  and  the  time  hung  heavily  upon  our 
hands.  About  three  o'clock  the  rain  slackened  and 
we  emerged  from  our  den,  Joe  going  to  look  after  his 
horse,  which  had  eaten  but  little  since  coming  into 
the  woods,  the  poor  creature  was  so  disturbed  by  the 
loneliness  and  the  black  flies;  I,  to  make  prepara- 
tions for  dinner,  while  my  companion  lazily  took  his 
rod  and  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  big  pool  in  front 
of  camp.  At  the  first  introductory  cast,  and  when 
his  fly  was  not  fifteen  feet  from  him  upon  the  water, 
there  was  a  lunge  and  a  strike,  and  apparently  the 
fisherman  had  hooked  a  bowlder.  I  was  standing  a 
few  yards  below  engaged  in  washing  out  the  coffee- 
pail,  when  I  heard  him  call  out :  — 

"  I  have  got  him  now  !  " 

"  Yes ;  I  see  you  have,"  said  I,  noticing  his  bend- 
ing pole  and  moveless  line ;  "  when  I  am  through,  I 
will  help  you  get  loose." 

"No;  but  I'm  not  joking,"  said  he;  "I  have  go 
%  big  fish." 

I  looked  up  again,  but  saw  no  reason  to  change 
jay  impression,  and  kept  on  with  my  work. 

It  is  proper  to  say  that  my  companion  was  a  nov 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.  231 

kcc  at  fly-fishing,  he  never  having  cast  a  fly  till  upon 
this  trip.  , 

Again  he  called  out  to  me,  but  deceived  by  his 
coolness  and  nonchalant  tones,  and  by  the  lethargy  of 
the  fish,  I  gave  little  heed.  I  knew  very  well  that  if 
I  had  struck  a  fish  that  held  me  down  in  that  way  I 
should  have  been  going  through  a  regular  war-dance 
on  that  circle  of  bowlder-tops,  and  should  have  scared 
the  game  into  activity,  if  the  hook  had  failed  to  wake 
him  up.  But  as  the  farce  continued  I  drew  near. 

"  Does  that  look  like  a  stone  or  a  log  ?  "  said  my 
friend,  pointing  to  his  quivering  line,  slowly  cutting 
the  current  up  toward  the  centre  of  the  pool. 

My  skepticism  vanished  in  an  instant,  and  I  could 
hardly  keep  my  place  on  the  top  of  the  rock. 

"  I  can  feel  him  breathe,"  said  the  now  warming 
fisherman  ;  "  just  feel  of  that  pole  ?  " 

I  put  my  eager  hand  upon  the  butt  and  could 
easily  imagine  I  felt  the  throb  or  pant  of  something 
alive  down  there  in  the  back  depths.  But  whatever 
it  was  moved  about  like  a  turtle.  My  companion 
was  praying  to  hear  his  reel  spin,  but  it  gave  out 
now  and  then  only  a  few  hesitating  clicks.  Still  the 
lituation  was  excitingly  dramatic,  and  we  were  all 
actors.  I  rushed  for  the  landing-net,  but  being  un- 
able to  find  it,  shouted  desperately  for  Joe,  who  came 
hurrying  back,  excited  before  he  had  learned  what 
the  matter  was.  The  net  had  been  left  at  the  lake 
below,  and  must  be  had  with  the  greatest  dispatch. 
Sn  the  mean  time,  I  skipped  about  from  bowlder  to 


232        THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

bowlder  as  the  fish  worked  this  way  or  that  about 
the  pool,  peering  into  the  water  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  him,  for  he  had  begun  to  yield  a  little  to  the 
steady  strain  that  was  kept  upon  him.  Presently  I 
saw  a  shadowy,  unsubstantial  something  just  emerge 
from  the  black  depths,  then  vanish.  Then  I  saw  it 
again,  and  this  time  the  huge  proportions  of  the  fish 
were  faintly  outlined  by  the  white  facings  of  his 
fins.  The  sketch  lasted  but  a  twinkling ;  it  was  only 
a  flitting  shadow  upon  a  darker  background,  but  it 
gave  me  the  prof  oundest  Ike  "Walton  thrill  I  ever  ex- 
perienced. I  had  been  a  fisher  from  my  earliest  boy- 
hood. I  came  from  a  race  of  fishers ;  trout-streams 
gurgled  about  the  roots  of  the  family  tree,  and  there 
was  a  long  accumulated  and  transmitted  tendency 
and  desire  in  me  that  that  sight  gratified.  I  did  not 
wish  the  pole  in  my  own  hands ;  there  was  quite 
enough  electricity  overflowing  from  it  and  filling  the 
air  for  me.  The  fish  yielded  more  and  more  to  the 
relentless  pole,  till,  in  about  fifteen  minutes  from  the 
tune  he  was  struck,  he  came  to  the  surface,  then 
made  a  little  whirlpool  where  he  disappeared  again. 
But  presently  he  was  up  a  second  time  and  lashing 
flie  water  into  foam  as  the  angler  led  him  toward  the 

o 

rock  upon  which  I  was  perched  net  in  hand.  As  I 
reached  toward  him,  down  he  went  again,  and,  taking 
another  circle  of  the  pool,  came  up  still  more  ex- 
hausted, when,  between  his  paroxysms,  I  carefully 
tan  the  net  over  him  and  lifted  him  ashore,  amic^ 
it  is  needless  to  say,  the  wildest  enthusiasm  of  the 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       233 

spectators.  The  congratulatory  laughter  of  the  loons 
down  on  the  lake  showed  how  even  the  outsiders 
sympathized.  Much  larger  trout  have  been  taken  in 
these  waters  and  in  others,  but  this  fish  would  have 
swallowed  any  three  we  had  ever  before  caught. 

"  What  does  he  weigh  ?  "  was  the  natural  inquiry 
of  each;  and  we  took  turns  "hefting"  him.  But 
gravity  was  less  potent  to  us  just  then  than  usual, 
and  the  fish  seemed  astonishingly  light. 

"  Four  pounds,"  we  said ;  but  Joe  said  more.  So 
we  improvised  a  scale :  a  long  strip  of  board  was 
balanced  across  a  stick,  and  our  groceries  served  as 
weights.  A  four-pound  package  of  sugar  kicked  the 
beam  quickly ;  a  pound  of  coffee  was  added ;  still  it 
went  up ;  then  a  pound  of  tea,  and  still  the  fish  had 
little  the  best  of  it.  But  we  called  it  six  pounds, 
not  to  drive  too  sharp  a  bargain  with  fortune,  and 
were  more  than  satisfied.  Such  a  beautiful  creature ! 
marked  in  every  respect  like  a  trout  of  six  inches. 
We  feasted  our  eyes  upon  him  for  half  an  hour. 
We  stretched  him  upon  the  ground  and  admired 
him ;  we  laid  him  across  a  log  and  withdrew  a  few 
paces  and  admired  him ;  we  hung  him  against  the 
shanty  and  turned  our  heads  from  side  to  side  as 
women  do  when  they  are  selecting  dress  goods,  the 
better  to  take  in  the  full  force  of  the  effect. 

He  graced  the  board  or  stump  that  afternoon  and 
was  the  sweetest  fish  we  had  taken.  The  flesh  was 
a  deep  salmon  color  and  very  rich.  We  had  before 
discovered  that  there  were  two  varieties  of  trout  in 


234       THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

these  waters,  irrespective  of  size,  —  the  red-fleshed 
and  the  white-fleshed,  —  and  that  the  former  were 
best. 

This  success  gave  an  impetus  to  our  sport  that 
carried  us  through  the  rest  of  the  week  finely.  We 
had  demonstrated  that  there  were  big  trout  here  and 
that  they  would  rise  to  a  fly.  Henceforth  big  fish 
were  looked  to  as  a  possible  result  of  every  excur- 
sion. To  me,  especially,  the  desire  to  at  least  match 
my  companion,  who  had  been  my  pupil  in  the  art, 
was  keen  and  constant.  We  built  a  raft  of  logs  and 
upon  it  I  floated  out  upon  the  lake,  whipping  its 
waters  right  and  left,  morning,  noon,  and  night. 
Many  fine  trout  came  to  my  hand  and  were  released 
because  they  did  not  fill  the  bill. 

The  lake  became  my  favorite  resort,  while  my 
companion  preferred  rather  the  shore  or  the  long 
still  pool  above,  where  there  was  a  rude  make-shift 
of  a  boat,  made  of  common  box-boards. 

Upon  the  lake  you  had  the  wildness  and  solitude 
at  arm's  length,  and  could  better  take  their  look  and 
measure.  You  became  something  apart  from  them  ; 
you  emerged  and  had  a  vantage  ground  like  that  of 
a  mountain  peak,  and  could  contemplate  them  at 
your  ease.  Seated  upon  my  raft  and  slowly  carried 
by  the  current  or  drifted  by  the  breeze,  I  had  many 
*  long,  silent  look  into  the  face  of  the  wilderness, 
and  found  the  communion  good.  I  was  alone  with 
the  spirit  of  the  forest-bound  lakes  and  felt  its  pres- 
ence and  magnetism.  I  played  hide-and-seek  with 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       235 

it  about  the  nooks  and  corners  and  lay  in  wait  for  it 
upon  a  little  island  crowned  with  a  clump  of  trees 
that  was  moored  just  to  one  side  the  current  near 
the  head  of  the  lake. 

Indeed  there  is  no  depth  of  solitude  that  the  mind 
does  not  endow  with  some  human  interest.  As  in  a 
dead  silence  the  ear  is  filled  with  its  own  murmur, 
so  amid  these  aboriginal  scenes  one's  feelings  and 
sympathies  become  external  to  him,  as  it  were,  and 
he  holds  converse  with  them.  Then  a  lake  is  the 
ear  as  well  as  the  eye  of  a  forest.  It  is  the  place  to 
go  to  listen  and  ascertain  what  sounds  are  abroad  in 
the  air.  They  all  run  quickly  thither  and  report. 
If  any  creature  had  called  in  the  forest  for  miles 
about  I  should  have  heard  it.  At  times  I  could  hear 
the  distant  roar  of  water  off  beyond  the  outlet  of  the 
lake.  The  sound  of  the  vagrant  winds  purring  here 
and  there  in  the  tops  of  the  spruces  reached  my  ear. 
A  breeze  would  come  slowly  down  the  mountain, 
then  strike  the  lake,  and  I  could  see  its  footsteps  ap- 
proaching by  the  changed  appearance  of  the  water. 
How  slowly  the  winds  move  at  times,  sauntering  like 
one  on  a  Sunday  walk !  A  breeze  always  enlivens 
the  fish ;  a  dead  calm  and  all  pennants  sink ;  your 
activity  with  your  fly  is  ill-timed,  and  you  soon  take 
the  hint  and  stop.  Becalmed  upon  my  raft,  I  ob- 
served, as  I  have  often  done  before,  that  the  life  of 
nature  ebbs  and  flows,  comes  and  departs,  in  these 
wilderness  scenes ;  one  moment  her  stage  is  thronged 
tnd  the  next  quite  deserted.  Then  there  is  a  won 


236  THE   HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

derful  unity  of  movement  in  the  two  elements,  ail 
and  water.  When  there  is  much  going  on  in  one, 
there  is  quite  sure  to  be  much  going  on  in  the  other. 
You  have  been  casting,  perhaps,  for  an  hour  with 
scarcely  a  jump  or  any  sign  of  life  anywhere  about 
you,  when  presently  the  breeze  freshens  and  the 
trout  begin  to  respond,  and  then  of  a  sudden  all  the 
performers  rush  in  ;  ducks  come  sweeping  by,  loons 
laugh  and  wheel  overhead,  then  approach  the  water 
on  a  long  gentle  incline,  plowing  deeper  and  deeper 
into  its  surface  until  their  momentum  is  arrested,  or 
converted  into  foam ;  the  fish-hawk  screams,  the 
bald  eagle  goes  flapping  by,  and  your  eyes  and  hands 
are  full.  Then  the  tide  ebbs  and  both  fish  and  fowl 
are  gone. 

Patiently  whipping  the  waters  of  the  lake  from  my 
rude  float,  I  became  an  object  of  great  interest  to  the 
loons.  I  had  never  seen  these  birds  before  in  their 
proper  habitat,  and  the  interest  was  mutual.  When 
they  had  paused  on  the  Hudson  during  their  spring 
and  fall  migrations,  I  had  pursued  them  in  my  boat 
to  try  to  get  near  them.  Now  the  case  was  reversed  ; 
I  was  the  interloper  now,  and  they  would  come  out 
and  study  me.  Sometimes  six  or  eight  of  them  would 
be  swimming  about  watching  my  movements,  but 
Vhey  were  wary  and  made  a  wide  circle.  One  day 
one  of  their  number  volunteered  to  make  a  thorough 
reconnoissance.  I  saw  him  leave  his  comrades  and 
Bwim  straight  toward  me.  He  came,  bringing  first 
•me  eye  to  bear  upon  me  then  the  other.  Whes 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       237 

about  half  the  distance  was  passed  over  he  began  to 
waver  and  ^hesitate.  To  encourage  him  I  stopped 
casting,  and  taking  off  my  hat  began  to  wave  it 
slowly  to  and  fro,  as  in  the  act  of  fanning  myself. 
This  started  him  again,  —  this  was  a  new  trait  in 
the  creature  that  he  must  scrutinize  more  closely. 
On  he  came,  till  all  his  markings  were  distinctly 
seen.  With  one  hand  I  pulled  a  little  revolver  from 
my  hip  pocket,  and  when  the  loon  was  about  fifty 
yards  distant  and  had  begun  to  sidle  around  me,  I 
fired :  at  the  flash  I  saw  two  webbed  feet  twinkle  in 
the  air,  and  the  loon  was  gone !  Lead  could  not 
have  gone  down  so  quickly.  The  bullet  cut  across 
the  circles  where  he  disappeared.  In  a  few  moments 
he  reappeared  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  away. 
"  Ha-ha-ha-a-a,"  said  he,  "  ha-ha-ha-a-a,"  and  "  ha-ha- 
ha-a-a,"  said  his  comrades,  who  had  been  looking  on ; 
and  "ha-ha-ha-a-a,"  said  we  all,  echo  included.  He 
approached  a  second  time,  but  not  so  closely,  and 
when  I  began  to  creep  back  toward  the  shore  with 
my  heavy  craft,  pawing  the  water  first  upon  one  side, 
then  the  other,  he  followed,  and  with  ironical  laughter 
witnessed  my  efforts  to  stem  the  current  at  the  head 
of  the  lake.  I  confess  it  was  enough  to  make  a  more 
Bolemn  bird  than  the  loon  laugh,  but  it  was  no  fun  for 
me,  and  generally  required  my  last  pound  of  steam. 

The  loons  flew  back  and  forth  from  one  lake  to 
the  other,  and  their  voices  were  about  the  only  nota- 
Ue  wild  sounds  to  be  heard. 

One  afternoon  quite   unexpectedly  I  struck  my 


238  THE   HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

big  fish  in  the  head  of  the  lake.  I  was  first  advised 
of  his  approach  by  two  or  three  trout  jumping  clear 
from  the  water  to  get  out  of  his  lordship's  way. 
The  water  was  not  deep  just  there,  and  he  swam  so 
near  the  surface  that  his  enormous  back  cut  through. 
With  a  swirl  he  swept  my  fly  under  and  turned. 

My  hook  was  too  near  home,  and  my  rod  too  neai 
a  perpendicular  to  strike  well.  More  than  that,  my 
presence  of  mind  came  near  being  unhorsed  by  the 
sudden  apparition  of  the  fish.  If  I  could  have  had 
a  moment's  notice,  or  if  I  had  not  seen  the  monster, 
I  should  have  fared  better  and  the  fish  worse.  I 
struck,  but  not  with  enough  decision,  and  before  I 
could  reel  up,  my  empty  hook  came  back.  The  trout 
had  carried  it  in  his  jaws  till  the  fraud  was  detected, 
and  then  spat  it  out.  He  came  a  second  time  and 
made  a  grand  commotion  in  the  water,  but  not  in  my 
nerves,  for  I  was  ready  then,  but  failed  to  take  the 
fly  and  so  to  get  his  weight  and  beauty  in  these 
pages.  As  my  luck  failed  me  at  the  last  I  will  place 
my  loss  at  the  full  extent  of  the  law,  and  claim  that 
nothing  less  than  a  ten-pounder  was  spirited  away 
from  my  hand  that  day.  I  might  not  have  saved 
him,  netless  as  I  was  upon  my  cumbrous  raft ;  but  I 
should  at  least  have  had  the  glory  of  the  fight,  and 
the  consolation  of  the  fairly  vanquished. 

These  trout  are  not  properly  lake-trout,  but  the 
common  brook-trout  (S.  fontinalis).  The  largest 
ones  are  taken  with  live  bait  through  the  ice  in  win 
ter.  The  Indians  and  the  hdbitans  bring  them  out  of 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       239 

fche  wood  from  here  and  from  Snow  Lake  on  their 
toboggans,  from  two  and  a  half  to  three  feet  long. 
They  have  kinks  and  ways  of  their  own.  About 
half  a  mile  above  camp  we  discovered  a  deep  oval 
bay  to  one  side  the  main  current  of  the  river,  that 
evidently  abounded  in  big  fish.  Here  they  disported 
themselves.  It  was  a  favorite  feeding  ground,  and 
late  every  afternoon  the  fish  rose  all  about  it,  mak- 
ing those  big  ripples  the  angler  delights  to  see.  A 
trout,  when  he  comes  to  the  surface,  starts  a  ring 
about  his  own  length  in  diameter ;  most  of  the  rings 
in  the  pool,  when  the  eye  caught  them,  were  like 
barrel  hoops,  but  the  haughty  trout  ignored  all  our 
best  efforts ;  not  one  rise  did  we  get.  We  were  told 
of  this  pool  on  our  return  to  Quebec,  and  that  other 
anglers  had  a  similar  experience  there.  But  occa- 
sionally some  old  fisherman,  like  a  great  advocate 
who  loves  a  difficult  case,  would  set  his  wits  to  work 
and  bring  into  camp  an  enormous  trout  taken  there. 

I  had  been  told  in  Quebec  that  I  would  not  see  a 
bird  in  the  woods,  not  a  feather  of  any  kind.  But  I 
knew  I  should,  though  they  were  not  numerous.  I 
saw  and  heard  a  bird  nearly  every  day  on  the  tops  of 
the  trees  about  that  I  think  was  one  of  the  cross-bills. 
The  king-fisher  was  there  ahead  of  us  with  his  loud 
clicking  reel.  The  osprey  was  there  too,  and  I  saw 
him  abusing  the  bald  eagle  who  had  probably  just 
robbed  him  of  a  fish.  The  yellow-rumped  warbler  I 
saw,  ajd  one  of  the  kinglets  was  leading  its  lisping 
orood  about  through  the  spruces.  In  every  opening 


240        THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

the  white-throated  sparrow  abounded,  striking  up  his 
clear  sweet  whistle  at  tunes  so  loud  and  sudden  that 
one's  momentary  impression  was  that  some  farm  boy 
was  approaching,  or  was  secreted  there  behind  the 
logs.  Many  times,  amid  those  primitive  solitudes,  I 
was  quite  startled  by  the  human  tone  and  quality  of 
this  whistle.  It  is  little  more  than  a  beginning ;  the 
bird  never  seems  to  finish  the  strain  suggested.  The 
Canada  jay  was  there  also  very  busy  about  some  im- 
portant private  matter. 

One  lowery  morning  as  I  was  standing  in  camp  I 
saw  a  lot  of  ducks  borne  swiftly  down  by  the  current 
around  the  bend  in  the  river  a  few  rods  above. 
They  saw  me  at  the  same  instant  and  turned  toward 
the  shore.  On  hastening  up  there  I  found  the  old 
bird  rapidly  leading  her  nearly  grown  brood  through 
the  woods,  as  if  to  go  around  our  camp.  As  I  pur- 
sued them  they  ran  squawking  with  outstretched 
stubby  wings,  scattering  right  and  left,  and  seeking  a 
hiding-place  under  the  logs  and  debris ;  I  captured 
one  and  carried  it  into  camp.  It  was  just  what  Joe 
wanted ;  it  would  make  a  valuable  decoy.  So  he 
kept  it  in  a  box,  fed  it  upon  oats  and  took  it  out  of 
the  woods  with  him. 

We  found  the  camp  we  had  appropriated  was  a 
favorite  stopping-place  of  the  carmen  who  hauled  in 
supplies  for  the  gang  of  two  hundred  road-builders. 
One  rainy  day  near  nightfall  no  less  than  eight  carts 
drew  up  at  the  old  stable,  and  the  rain-soaked  drivers, 
tfter  picketing  and  feeding  their  horses,  came  down 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.  241 

to  our  fire.  We  were  away,  and  Joe  met  us  on  our 
return  with  ,the  unwelcome  news.  We  kept  open 
house  so  far  as  the  fire  was  concerned ;  but  our  roof 
was  a  narrow  one  at  the  best,  and  one  or  two  leaky 
spots  made  it  still  narrower. 

"We  shall  probably  sleep  out-of-doors  to-night," 
said  my  companion,  "  unless  we  are  a  match  for  this 
posse  of  rough  teamsters." 

But  the  men  proved  to  be  much  more  peaceably 
disposed  than  the  same  class  at  home ;  they  apolo- 
gized for  intruding,  pleading  the  inclemency  of  the 
weather,  and  were  quite  willing  with  our  permission 
to  take  up  with  pot-luck  about  the  fire  and  leave  us 
the  shanty.  They  dried  their  clothes  upon  poles  and 
logs,  and  had  their  fun  and  their  bantering  amid  it 
all.  An  Irishman  among  them  did  about  the  only 
growling ;  he  invited  himself  into  our  quarters,  and 
before  morning  had  Joe's  blanket  about  him  in  ad- 
dition to  his  own. 

On  Friday  we  made  an  excursion  to  Great  Lake 
Jacques  Cartier,  paddling  and  poleing  up  the  river  in 
the  rude  box-boat.  It  was  a  bright,  still  morning  after 
the  rain,  and  everything  had  a  new,  fresh  appear- 
ance. Expectation  was  ever  on  tiptoe  as  each  turn 
in  the  river  opened  a  new  prospect  before  us.  How 
wild,  and  shaggy,  and  silent  it  was  !  What  fascinat- 
ing pools,  what  tempting  stretches  of  trout-haunted 
water!  Now  and  then  we  would  catch  a  glimpse 
of  long  black  shadows  starting  away  from  the  boat 
ind  shooting  through  the  sunlit  depths.  But  no 
16 


242       THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

sound  or  motion  on  shore  was  heard  or  seen.  Near 
the  lake  we  came  to  a  long,  shallow  rapid,  when  we 
pulled  off  our  shoes  and  stockings  and  with  our  trou- 
sers rolled  above  our  knees  towed  the  boat  up  it, 
wincing  and  cringing  amid  the  sharp,  slippery  stones. 
With  benumbed  feet  and  legs  we  reached  the  still 
water  that  forms  the  stem  of  the  lake  and  presently 
saw  the  arms  of  the  wilderness  open  and  the  long 
deep-blue  expanse  in  their  embrace.  We  rested  and 
bathed,  and  gladdened  our  eyes  with  the  singularly 
beautiful  prospect.  The  shadows  of  summer  clouds 
were  slowly  creeping  up  and  down  the  sides  of  the 
mountains  that  hemmed  it  in.  On  the  far  eastern 
shore  near  the  head,  banks  of  what  was  doubtless 
white  sand  shone  dimly  in  the  sun,  and  the  illusion 
that  there  was  a  town  nestled  there  haunted  my 
mind  constantly.  It  was  like  a  section  of  the  Hud- 
son below  the  Highlands,  except  that  these  waters 
were  bluer  and  colder,  and  these  shores  darker  than 
even  those  Sir  Hendrik  first  looked  upon ;  but  surely, 
one  felt,  a  steamer  will  round  that  point  presently,  or 
a  sail  drift  into  view  !  We  paddled  a  mile  or  more 
up  the  east  shore,  then  across  to  the  west,  and  found 
such  pleasure  in  simply  gazing  upon  the  scene  that 
our  rods  were  quite  neglected.  We  did  some  casting 
after  a  while,  but  raised  no  fish  of  any  consequence 
till  we  were  in  the  outlet  again,  when  they  responded 
BO  freely  that  the  "  disgust  of  trout "  was  soon  upon 
as. 
At  the  rapids,  on  our  return,  as  I  was  standing  to 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       243 

my  knees  in  the  swift,  cold  current  and  casting  into 
a  deep  hole  »•  behind  a  huge  bowlder  that  rose  four  or 
five  feet  above  the  water  amidstream,  two  trout,  one 
of  them  a  large  one,  took  my  flies,  and  finding  the 
fish  and  the  current  united  too  strong  for  my  tackle 
I  sought  to  gain  the  top  of  the  bowlder,  in  which  at- 
tempt I  got  wet  to  my  middle  and  lost  my  fish. 
After  I  had  gained  the  rock  I  could  not  get  away 
again  with  my  clothes  on  without  swimming  ;  which, 
to  say  nothing  of  wet  garments  the  rest  of  the  way 
home,  I  did  not  like  to  do  amid  those  rocks  and 
swift  currents  ;  so  after  a  vain  attempt  to  communi- 
cate with  my  companion  above  the  roar  of  the  water, 
I  removed  my  clothing,  left  them  together  with  my 
tackle  upon  the  rock,  and  by  a  strong  effort  stemmed 
the  current  and  reached  the  shore.  The  boat  was  a 
hundred  yards  above,  and  when  I  arrived  there  my 
teeth  were  chattering  with  the  cold,  my  feet  were 
numb  with  bruises,  and  the  black  flies  were  making 
the  blood  stream  down  my  back.  We  hastened  back 
trith  the  boat,  and  by  wading  out  into  the  current 
again  and  holding  it  by  a  long  rope,  it  swung  around 
with  my  companion  aboard  and  was  held  in  the  eddy 
behind  the  rock.  I  clambered  up,  got  my  clothes 
on,  and  we  were  soon  shooting  down  stream  toward 
home  ;  but  the  winter  of  discontent  that  shrouded 
one  half  of  me  made  sad  inroads  upon  the  placid 
feeling  of  a  day  well  spent  that  enveloped  the  other, 
nil  the  way  to  camp. 

That  night   something  carried  off  all  our  fish,  — 


244  THE   HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

doubtless  a  fisher  or  lynx,  as  Joe  had  seen  an  anima~ 
of  some  kind  about  camp  that  day. 

I  must  not  forget  the  two  red  squirrels  that  fre- 
quented the  camp  during  our  stay  and  that  were  so 
tame  they  would  approach  within  a  few  feet  of  ua 
and  take  the  pieces  of  bread  or  fish  tossed  to  them. 
When  a  particularly  fine  piece  of  hard-tack  was* 
secured  they  would  spin  off  to  their  den  with  it 
somewhere  near  by. 

Caribou  abound  in  these  woods,  but  we  saw  only 
their  tracks,  and  of  bears,  which  are  said  to  be  plen- 
tiful, we  saw  no  signs. 

Saturday  morning  we  packed  up  our  traps  and 
started  on  our  return,  and  found  that  the  other  side 
of  the  spruce-trees  and  the  vista  of  the  lonely  road 
going  south  were  about  the  same  as  coming  north. 
But  we  understood  the  road  better  and  the  buck- 
board  better,  and  our  load  was  lighter,  hence  the  dis- 
tance was  easier  accomplished. 

I  saw  a  solitary  robin  by  the  road-side  and  won- 
dered what  could  have  brought  this  social  and  half- 
domesticated  bird  so  far  into  these  wilds.  In  La 
Grand  Brulure,  a  hermit-thrush  perched  upon  a  dry 
tree  in  a  swampy  place  and  sang  most  divinely.  We 
paused  to  listen  to  his  clear,  silvery  strain  poured  out 
without  stint  upon  that  unlistening  solitude.  I  wa* 
half  persuaded  I  had  heard  him  before  on  first  entei 
tog  the  woods. 

We  nooned  again  at  No  Man's  Inn  on  the  banks 
tf  a  trout-lake,  and  fared  well  and  had  no  reckoning 


THE   HALCYON  IN   CANADA.  245 

to  pay.  Late  in  the  afternoon  we  saw  a  lonely 
pedestrian  laboring  up  a  hill  far  ahead  of  us.  When 
he  heard  us  coming  he  leaned  his  back  against  the 
bank,  and.  was  lighting  his  pipe  as  we  passed.  He 
was  an  old  man,  an  Irishman,  and  looked  tired.  He 
had  come  from  the  farther  end  of  the  road,  fifty  miles 
distant,  and  had  thirty  yet  before  him  to  reach  town. 
He  looked  the  dismay  he  evidently  felt,  when  in  an- 
swer to  his  inquiry  we  told  him  it  was  yet  ten  miles 
to  the  first  house,  La  Chance's.  But  there  was  a 
roof  nearer  than  that,  where  he  doubtless  passed  the 
night,  for  he  did  not  claim  hospitality  at  the  cabin  of 
La  Chance.  We  arrived  there  betimes,  but  found  the 
"  spare  bed  "  assigned  to  other  guests ;  so  we  were 
comfortably  lodged  upon  the  hay -mow.  One  of  the 
boys  lighted  us  up  with  a  candle  and  made  level 
places  for  us  upon  the  hay. 

La  Chance  was  one  of  the  game  wardens',  or  con- 
stables appointed  by  the  government  to  see  the  game 
laws  enforced.  Joe  had  not  felt  entirely  at  his  ease 
about  the  duck  he  was  surreptitiously  taking  to  town, 
and  when,  by  its  "  quack,  quack,"  it  called  upon  La 
Chance  for  protection,  he  responded  at  once.  Joe 
was  obliged  to  liberate  it  then  and  there,  and  to  hear 
the  law  read  and  expounded,  and  be  threatened  till 
he  turned  pale  beside.  It  was  evident  that  they 
follow  the  home  government  in  the  absurd  practice 
?f  enforcing  their  laws  in  Canada.  La  Chance  said 
he  was  under  oath  not  to  wink  at  or  permit  any  vio- 
lation of  the  law,  and  seemed  to  think  that  made  a 
difference. 


246        THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

We  were  off  early  in  the  morning,  and  before  we 
had  gone  two  miles  met  a  party  from  Quebec  who 
must  have  been  driving  nearly  all  night  to  give  the 
black  flies  an  early  breakfast.  Before  long  a  slow 
rain  set  in ;  we  saw  another  party  who  had  taken 
refuge  in  a  house  in  a  grove.  When  the  rain  had 
become  so  brisk  that  we  began  to  think  of  seeking 
shelter  ourselves,  we  passed  a  party  of  young  men 
and  boys  —  sixteen  of  them  in  a  cart  turning  back  to 
town,  water-soaked  and  heavy  (for  the  poor  horse 
had  all  it  could  pull),  but  merrjr  and  good-natured. 
We  paused  a  while  at  the  farm-house  where  we  had 
got  our  hay  on  going  out,  were  treated  to  a  drink  of 
milk  and  some  wild  red  cherries,  and  when  the  rain 
slackened  drove  .on,  and  by  ten  o'clock  saw  the  city 
eight  miles  distant,  with  the  sun  shining  upon  its 
steep  tinned  roofs. 

The  next  morning  we  set  out  per  steamer  for  the 
Saguenay,  and  entered  upon  the  second  phase  of 
our  travels,  but  with  less  relish  than  we  could  have 
wished.  Scenery-hunting  is  the  least  satisfying  pur- 
iuit  I  have  ever  engaged  in.  What  one  sees  in  his 
necessary  travels,  or  doing  his  work,  or  going  a-fish.- 
ing,  seems  worth  while,  but  the  famous  view  you 
go  out  in  cold  blood  to  admire  is  quite  apt  to  elude 
you.  Nature  loves  to  enter  a  door  another  hand  has 
opened ;  a  mountain  view,  or  a  water-fall,  I  have 
noticed,  never  looks  better  than  when  one  has  just 
been  warmed  up  by  the  capture  of  a  big  trout.  If 
ire  had  been  bound  for  some  salmon-stream  up  the 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       247 

Saguenay,  we  should  perhaps  have  possessed  that 
generous  and.  receptive  frame  of  mind  —  that  open 
house  of  the  heart  —  which  makes  one  "  eligible  to 
any  good  fortune,"  and  the  grand  scenery  would 
have  come  in  as  fit  sauce  to  the  salmon.  An  advent- 
ure, a  bit  of  experience  of  some  kind,  is  what  one 
wants  when  he  goes  forth  to  admire  woods  and  wa- 
ters, —  something  to  create  a  draught  and  make  the 
embers  of  thought  and  feeling  brighten.  Nature, 
like  certain  wary  game,  is  best  taken  by  seeming  to 
pass  by  her  intent  on  other  matters. 

But  without  any  such  errand,  or  occupation,  or  in- 
direction, we  managed  to  extract  considerable  satis- 
faction from  the  view  of  the  lower  St.  Lawrence  and 
the  Saguenay. 

We  had  not  paid  the  customary  visit  to  the  falls 
of  the  Montmorency,  but  we  shall  see  them  after  all, 
for  before  we  are  a  league  from  Quebec  they  come 
into  view  on  the  left.  A  dark  glen  or  chasm  there 
at  the  end  of  the  Beaufort  Slopes  seems  suddenly  to 
have  put  on  a  long  white  apron.  '  By  intently  gazing 
one  can  see  the  motion  and  falling  of  the  water, 
though  it  is  six  or  seven  miles  away.  There  is  no 
sign  of  the  river  above  or  below  but  this  trembling 
white  curtain  of  foam  and  spray. 

It  was  very  sultry  when  we  left  Quebec,  but  about 
noon  we  struck  much  clearer  and  cooler  air,  and 
soon  after  ran  into  an  immense  wave  or  puff  of  fog 
that  came  drifting  up  the  river  and  set  all  the  fog- 
booming  along  shore.  We  were  soon  through 


248  THE   HALCYON   IN   CANADA. 

it  into  clear,  crisp  space,  with  room  enough  for  any 
eye  to  range  in.  On  the  south  the  shores  of  the 
great  river  appear  low  and  uninteresting,  but  on  the 
north  they  are  bold  and  striking  enough  to  make  it 
up  —  high,  scarred,  unpeopled  mountain  ranges  the 
whole  way.  The  points  of  interest  to  the  eye  in  the 
broad  expanse  of  water  were  the  white  porpoises 
that  kept  rolling,  rolling  in  the  distance,  all  day. 
They  came  up  like  the  perimeter  of  a  great  wheel, 
that  turns  slowly  and  then  disappears.  From  mid- 
forenoon  we  could  see  far  ahead  an  immense  column 
of  yellow  smoke  rising  up  and  flattening  out  upon 
the  sky  and  stretching  away  beyond  the  horizon.  Its 
form  was  that  of  some  aquatic  plant  that  shoots  a 
stem  up  through  the  water,  and  spreads  its  broad  leaf 
upon  the  surface.  This  smoky  lily-pad  must  have 
reached  nearly  to  Maine.  It  proved  to  be  in  the  In- 
dian country  in  the  mountains  beyond  the  mouth  of 
the  Saguenay,  and  must  have  represented  an  im- 
mense destruction  of  forest  timber. 

The  steamer  is  two  hours  crossing  the  St.  Law- 
rence from  Riviere  du  Loup  to  Tadoussac.  The 
Saguenay  pushes  a  broad  sweep  of  dark  blue  water 
down  into  its  mightier  brother,  that  is  sharply  de- 
fined from  the  deck  of  the  steamer.  The  two  rivers 
seem  to  touch,  but  not  to  blend,  so  proud  and  haughty 
is  this  chieftain  from  the  north.  On  the  mountains 
above  Tadoussac  one  could  see  banks  of  sand  left  by 
the  ancient  seas.  Naked  rock  and  sterile  sand  are 
all  the  Tadoussacker  has  to  make  his  garden  of,  so 


THE   HALCYON  IN   CANADA.  249 

far  as  I  observed.  Indeed,  there  is  no  soil  along  the 
Saguenay  until  you  get  to  Ha-ha  Bay,  and  then  there 
is  not  much,  and  poor  quality  at  that. 

What  the  ancient  fires  did  not  burn  the  ancient 
seas  have  washed  away.  I  overheard  an  English 
resident  say  to  a  Yankee  tourist,  "You  will  think, 
you  are  approaching  the  end  of  the  world  up  here." 
It  certainly  did  suggest  something  apocryphal  or 
anti-mundane  —  a  segment  of  the  moon  or  of  a  cleft 
asteroid,  matter  dead  or  wrecked.  The  world-build- 
ers must  have  had  their  foundry  up  in  this  neighbor- 
hood, and  the  bed  of  this  river  was  doubtless  the 
channel  through  which  the  molten  granite  flowed. 
Some  mischief-loving  god  has  let  in  the  sea  while 
things  were  yet  red  hot  and  there  has  been  a  time 
here.  But  the  channel  still  seems  filled  with  water 
from  the  mid-Atlantic,  cold  and  blue-black,  and  in 
places  between  seven  and  eight  thousand  feet  deep 
(one  and  a  half  miles).  In  fact  the  enormous  depth 
of  the  Saguenay  is  one  of  the  wonders  of  physical 
geography.  It  is  as  great  a  marvel  in  its  way  as  Ni- 
agara. 

The  ascent  of  the  river  is  made  by  night,  and  the 
traveler  finds  himself  in  Ha-ha  Bay  in  the  morning. 
The  steamer  lies  here  several  hours  before  starting 
on  her  return  trip,  and  takes  in  large  quantities  of 
white  birch  wood,  as  she  does  also  at  Tadoussac, 
The  chief  product  of  the  country  seemed  to  be 
huckleberries,  of  which  large  quantities  are  shipped 
to  Quebec  in  rude  board  boxes  holding  about  a  peck 


250       THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA. 

each.  Little  girls  came  aboard  or  lingered  about  the 
landing  with  cornucopias  of  birch-bark  filled  with  red 
raspberries ;  five  cents  for  about  half  a  pint  was  the 
usual  price.  The  village  of  St.  Alphonse,  where  the 
steamer  tarries,  is  a  cluster  of  small  humble  dwellings 
dominated,  like  all  Canadian  villages,  by  an  immense 
church.  Usually  the  church  will  hold  all  the  houses 
in  the  village ;  pile  them  all  up  and  they  would 
hardly  equal  it  in  size ;  it  is  the  one  conspicuous  ob- 
ject, and  is  seen  afar;  and  on  the  various  lines  of 
travel  one  sees  many  more  priests  than  laymen. 
They  appear  to  be  about  the  only  class  that  stir  about 
and  have  a  good  time.  Many  of  the  houses  were  cov- 
ered with  birch  bark  —  the  canoe  birch  —  held  to  its 
place  by  perpendicular  strips  of  board  or  split  poles. 

A  man  with  a  horse  and  a  buck-board  persuaded 
us  to  give  him  twenty-five  cents  each  to  take  us  two 
miles  up  the  St.  Alphonse  River  to  see  the  salmon 
jump.  There  is  a  high  saw-mill  dam  there  which 
every  salmon  in  his  upward  journey  tries  his  hand  at 
leaping.  A  race-way  has  been  constructed  around 
the  dam  for  their  benefit,  which  it  seems  they  do  not 
use  till  they  have  repeatedly  tried  to  scale  the  dam. 
The  day  before  our  visit  three  dead  fish  were  found 
vn  the  pool  below,  killed  by  too  much  jumping. 
Those  we  saw  had  the  jump  about  all  taken  out  of 
them ;  several  did  not  get  more  than  half  their  length 
out  of  the  water,  and  occasionally  only  an  impotent 
nose  would  protude  from  the  foam.  One  fish  made 
a  leap  of  three  or  four  feet  and  landed  on  an  apron 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       251 

of  the  dam  and  tumbled  helplessly  back ;  he  shot  up 
like  a  bird  and  rolled  back  like  a  clod.  This  was  the 
only  view  of  salmon,  the  buck  of  the  rivers,  we  had 
on  our  journey. 

It  was  a  bright  and  flawless  midsummer  day  that 
we  sailed  down  the  Saguenay,  and  nothing  was  want- 
ing but  a  good  excuse  for  being  there.  The  river 
was  as  lonely  as  the  St.  John's  road ;  not  a  sail  or  a 
smoke-stack  the  whole  sixty-five  miles.  The  scenery 
culminates  at  Cape  Eternity,  where  the  rocks  rise 
sheer  from  the  water  to  a  height  of  eighteen  hundred 
feet.  This  view  dwarfed  anything  I  had  ever  before 
seen.  There  is  perhaps  nothing  this  side  the  Yosem- 
ite  chasm  that  equals  it,  and,  emptied  of  its  water, 
this  chasm  would  far  surpass  that  famous  canon,  as 
the  river  here  is  a  mile  and  a  quarter  deep.  The 
bald  eagle  nests  in  the  niches  in  the  precipice  secure 
from  any  intrusion.  Immense  blocks  of  the  rock  had 
fallen  out,  leaving  areas  of  shadow  and  clinging  over- 
hanging masses  that  were  a  terror  and  fascination  to 
the  eye.  There  was  a  great  fall  a  few  years  ago, 
just  as  the  steamer  had  passed  from  under  and  blown 
her  whistle  to  awake  the  echoes.  The  echo  came 
back,  and  with  it  a  part  of  the  mountain  that  aston- 
ished more  than  it  d  Blighted  the  lookers-on.  The 
pilot  took  us  close  around  the  base  of  the  precipice 
that  we  might  fully  inspect  it.  And  here  my  eyes 
played  me  a  trick  the  like  of  which  they  had  never 
done  before.  One  of  the  boys  of  the  steamer  brought 
to  the  forward  deck  his  hands  full  of  stones  that  the 


252  THE   HALCYON   IN   CANADA. 

curious  ones  among  the  passengers  might  try  how 
easy  it  was  to  throw  one  ashore.  "  Any  girl  ought 
to  do  it,"  I  said  to  myself,  after  a  man  had  tried  and 
had  failed  to  clear  half  the  distance.  Seizing  a  stone, 
I  cast  it  with  vigor  and  confidence,  and  as  much  ex- 
pected to  see  it  smite  the  rock  as  I  expected  to  live. 
"It  is  a  good  while  getting -there,"  I  mused,  as  I 
watched  its  course ;  down,  down  it  went ;  there,  it 
will  ring  upon  the  granite  in  half  a  breath ;  no,  down 
- —  into  the  water,  a  little  more  than  half  way !  "  Has 
my  arm  lost  its  cunning?"  I  said,  and  tried  again  and 
again,  but  with  like  result.  The  eye  was  completely 
at  fault.  There  was  a  new  standard  of  size  before 
it  to  which  it  failed  to  adjust  itself.  The  rock  is  so 
enormous  and  towers  so  above  you  that  you  get  the 
impression  it  is  much  nearer  than  it  actually  is. 
When  the  eye  .is  full  it  says  "  here  we  are,"  and  the 
hand  is  ready  to  prove  the  fact ;  but  in  this  case 
there  is  an  astonishing  discrepancy  between  what  the 
eye  reports  and  what  the  hand  finds  out. 

Cape  Trinity,  the  wife  of  this  colossus,  stands 
across  a  chasm  through  which  flows  a  small  tributary 
of  the  Saguenay,  and  is  a  head  or  two  shorter  as  be- 
comes a  wife,  and  less  rugged  and  broken  in  outline. 

From  Riviere  du  Loup,  where  we  passed  the  night 
and  ate  our  first  "  Tommy-cods,"  our  thread  of  travel 
makes  a  big  loop  around  New  Brunswick  to  St. 
John,  thence  out  and  down  through  Maine  to  Boston, 
—  a  thread  upon  which  many  delightful  excursions 
and  reminiscences  might  be  strung.  We  traversed 


THE  HALCYON  IN  CANADA.       253 

the  whole  of  the  valley  of  the  Metapedia  and  passed 
the  doors  of  many  famous  salmon  streams  and  rivers, 
and  heard  everywhere  the  talk  they  inspire ;  one 
could  not  take  a  nap  in  the  car  for  the  excitement  of 
the  big  fish  stories  he  was  obliged  to  overhear. 

o  o 

The  Metapedia  is  a  most  enticing-looking  stream  ; 
its  waters  are  as  colorless  as  melted  snow ;  I  could 
easily  have  seen  the  salmon  in  it  as  we  shot  along,  if 
they  had  come  out  from  their  hiding-places.  It  was 
the  first  white-water  stream  we  had  seen  since  leav- 
ing the  Catskills ;  for  all  the  Canadian  streams  are 
black  or  brown,  either  from  the  iron  in  the  soil  or 
from  the  leechings  of  the  spruce  swamps.  But  in 
New  Brunswick  we  saw  only  these  clear,  silver-shod 
streams  ;  I  imagined  they  had  a  different  ring  or  tone 
also.  The  Metapedia  is  deficient  in  good  pools  in  its 
lower  portions ;  its  limpid  waters  flowing  with  a  tran- 
quil murmur  over  its  wide,  evenly  paved  bed  for 
miles  at  a  stretch.  The  salmon  pass  over  these  shal- 
lows by  night  and  rest  in  the  pools  by  day.  The 
Restigouche,  which  it  joins,  and  which  is  a  famous 
salmon-stream  and  the  father  of  famous  salmon- 
streams,  is  of  the  same  complexion  and  a  delight  to 
look  upon.  There  is  a  noted  pool  where  the  two 
join,  and  one  can  sit  upon  the  railroad  bridge  and 
sount  the  noble  fish  in  the  lucid  depths  below.  The 
valley  here  is  fertile,  and  has  a  cultivated,  well-kept 
look. 

We  passed  the  Jacquet,  the  Belledune,  the  Nepissis* 
quit,  the  Miramichi  ("happy  retreat  ')  in  the  nighty 
wid  have  only  their  bird-call  names  to  report. 


- 


CENTS 


OVERDUE. 


FES  15   1933 
DEC     3  1935 


SEP  '•"  I9W 


1 936 


